


Unfinished Business

by IdaArmindaMoss, RKMacBride



Series: Let Him That Stole Steal No More [5]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones, Laredo, The High Chaparral
Genre: Christian content, Episode Related, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdaArmindaMoss/pseuds/IdaArmindaMoss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RKMacBride/pseuds/RKMacBride
Summary: Heyes and Curry are obliged to tell their ladies about someone from their past.  The decision about what to do next may not be up to them, however disconcerting that might be to Heyes--but he flings himself into the necessary planning with his usual flair.





	1. Curry and Heyes Are Reminded of Something They'd Rather Forget

**Author's Note:**

> For those following the series of which this is a part, be aware that there is a story, several chapters long, that takes place between the end of "Idaho Springs, 1881" and this present story. The missing story section, entitled Summer in Telluride, which covers several surprising and important happenings in Hannibal Heyes's and Kid Curry's lives, will be available in due course.
> 
> English spelling and hyphenation conventions follow those in use at the time of the story, as far as possible. Many features which we now think of as typically American did not actually come into common use until after the presidency of Theodore Roosevelt.

**Telluride, Colorado, Friday, August 19th, 1881**

Putting away the last clean plate as the two men finished washing and drying the evening’s dishes from the large crowd the Irish Rose had entertained, Lillian O’More gestured to the table. “Why don’t both of you sit down? You’ve done more than enough this evening. I can’t sit down yet—I have to write up the menu for tomorrow and do a few other things first.”

Jed Curry allowed his sweetheart to gently push him into a chair. Heyes dropped into another across the big worktable, while Paula, his own sweetheart, poured cups of coffee for both men and made herself a fresh cup of tea. 

Curry was not about to admit it, but the extra time spent standing at the sink while doing the washing-up had made his recently healed leg start to ache, and he was glad to follow Lillie’s advice and take the weight off his feet. He watched her fondly as she moved quickly about the kitchen, a lock of her hair beginning to stray from its bun and curl around one ear. The glow from the lamps brought out the different highlights in the coiled hair, which was of a shade he always thought of as polished walnut.

Lillian thought of something she had been meaning to ask him. “Jed? I don’t have any photographs of you. There's a photographer here in town. Do you suppose you could have one made for me?” She smiled at him as he looked up quickly. “To look at when you’re gone?”

Then she saw the uneasy look on his face, mirrored by his partner’s expression. She almost thought she could detect a spark of anger in Heyes’s eyes. She stopped what she was doing and looked seriously from one to the other. “That made you nervous. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” replied Kid stoutly. “I don’t mind getting a photograph made for you. I know you won’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”

“Go on,” said Lillian to Heyes. “He doesn’t mind, but you do. What happened?”

Heyes covered his uneasiness with a quick smile. “There was only one time that we had photographs made—just two of them, of both of us with a friend.” He stopped.

Lillian looked across at Paula, who met her eyes gravely. From their close association during the summer, sharing lodgings, working together, and keeping the same secret, the two women had developed a habit of exchanging brief glances to communicate what they were thinking, just as the men they loved had been doing for years. Her gaze went back to Heyes, then Kid. “All right. Who was she? What did she do?”

“I think it’s more a matter of ‘Who _is_ she?’,” Paula murmured. “Look at their faces.”

Both outlaws now looked really alarmed. Heyes sighed. “I don’t mind telling you, but it’s a long story, and that’s hungry work.” He ended on a plaintive note, accompanied by his usual charming smile.

_He really _does_ do that kind of thing all the time_, thought Lillie in mild exasperation. _He can’t help it. I hope Paula’s prepared to deal with that_. Aloud, she added, “Heyes, if you _want_ something, you’ve only to ask, remember? And I’d be most interested in hearing the story.”

“Some left-over pie? Please?”

Kid chuckled. He, too, would like some of that pie—Lillie had mentioned there was about three-quarters of a peach pie left over—but he would never have tried the tactics his partner was using. That same approach had earned Heyes a well-deserved snub the previous autumn, when they were first getting to know Lillian.

With an unladylike snort, Lillian took the dish out of the pie safe, cut the pie into two large pieces and one smaller one, and set the food on the table. She reached a stopping place in her work and sat down to eat, producing a small saucer of fresh pie cherries for Paula, who she knew would not care for the sweet peach pie.

“Tell me about the friend in the photograph,” she said encouragingly.

“Her name is Clementine Hale. She’s about six years younger than me,” replied Heyes. “I think I’d better start by telling you how we know her, and then we can talk about the photographs.” He paused, watching his betrothed eat the tart pie cherries with every evidence of enjoyment. “Paula, aren’t those a little sour?”

“Yes! They’re good! Have one.” She held one out, which Heyes obligingly popped into his mouth. 

Sure enough, it was tart enough to make his lips pucker. He quickly took a swallow of coffee and a forkful of the sweet, delicious, peach pie. “You _like_ them that way?”

She nodded. “Very much. Go on, Heyes. Tell us about Miss Hale.” She was very curious about this unknown woman, whom Heyes and the Kid had never mentioned in the entire time she had known them.

“Well, it was after we’d done our second drive over the Chisholm Trail, back in 1874. I told Kid I knew how we could get more money without so much hard work.” He stopped. They had made glancing references to this part of their story before, but they had never told Miss O’More or Miss Wellington exactly how they had both ended up as notorious bank and train robbers. Heyes decided to gloss over that part quickly and hope the girls wouldn’t say anything. “Anyway, on our way up through Colorado, we stopped in South Park to visit some of those hot springs—you know, over by Nathrop. The more I thought about it, the more I thought we should find ourselves a nice job, maybe near the hot springs, to get us through the winter, before we went on to Devil’s Hole. That’s one drawback to robbing trains for a living—it’s not the kind of thing you want to do in the winter-time.”

“Why not?” Lillian put her fork down and rose to clear away the plates, motioning to the others to remain seated. “No, it’s simpler for me to do it myself.”

“Because,” explained Heyes cheerfully, “some of those jobs need dynamite. The liquid nitro-glycerine inside the sticks freezes. You have to lay the stuff right by a fire or a stove to thaw it out before you can use it. The first time I saw Big Jim doin’ that—he was the leader up there when I left to go to Texas and find Jed—I thought maybe it’d be safer to just pull the jobs in warmer weather.”

“We found work with a rancher not too far outside this nice little town called Silver Springs. Turned out, that winter there were only about three people there who were younger than twenty-five—us, and Clem.” He drank up the last of his coffee. “Miss Hale, that is. We call her Clem. She was about sixteen at the time. We got ourselves introduced to her, and got her father’s permission to call on her and spend time with her. There wasn’t anything in it—we just thought she was a pretty little kid, fun to be with.”

Kid frowned. What Heyes said was true—they had thought of the impressionable youngster as little more than a child, and had treated her accordingly. It had never occurred to them that she was growing into a woman, and becoming attracted to one or both of them.

“Lillie,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation, “you need to know. What Heyes says was true at the time, but when we met up with her again, I think she was—maybe she still is—a little sweet on me. I didn’t think about it much, and when she wanted me to kiss her, I didn’t see any harm in it. I still thought we were just good friends, even after she pulled this stunt with the photograph.”

Heyes made a face. He understood his partner’s reasons for making that disclosure, but the moment was inopportune, to say the least. Judging from her expression, Miss O’More did not seem too upset. He went on quickly with the next part of the story.

“After we went to Devil’s Hole, we told Clem she could write to us, if she wanted to, care of General Delivery at the post office in Medicine Bow. She wrote, and we wrote back once in a while. We finally had to tell her to stop writing to us after a new postmaster came to town and we weren’t sure we could trust him. Once we went straight, we stopped by to see her on our way through South Park, late in ’seventy-nine, to tell her what we were doing—really, what we _weren’t _doing—that we weren’t with the gang any more, or robbing trains or banks or anything like that. We even told her a little about the amnesty offer, and said we’d try to keep in touch, but we didn’t really know when we’d see her again.”

Heyes paused, trying to think how to describe what had happened next. Some things had always puzzled him, such as how Miss Hale had known to look for them in Booneville, Wyoming—a town they had not meant to spend more than a few weeks in. He had written to Lom Trevors from there, as usual, but it was unlikely that the Porterville sheriff would have given that information to a woman whom he didn’t know. He recalled another occasion when Trevors had, inexplicably, done precisely that.[1] Well, it would probably have to remain a mystery. He outlined this briefly to Paula and Lillian.

Paula looked worried. “You never tried to find out how she knew where you were?”

“No,” said Heyes, a little uneasily. “We were too busy trying to convince her that we had no intention of doing what she wanted. That was after she said, without any explanation, that she needed us to help her steal fifty thousand dollars.”

Kid joined in. “Then she walked with us over to the hotel and showed us the photograph she had with her, of the three of us.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget what happened next,” continued Heyes, a little grimly. “She said, ‘There are handbills out on you two. There could also be photographs, unless you agree to help me.’ Then she told the desk clerk to put the photograph back in the safe. It left me wondering for a minute who this girl was, who looked like our friend Clem—but Clem would never have done that to us. At least, the girl we thought we knew, who was our friend, wouldn’t have. I think Kid still hoped she could be our friend, but after that, I knew better.”

“That’s because I couldn’t believe she really meant that. And you know, Heyes, later, she went out of her way to protect us from the assistant attorney general for Colorado and the U.S. marshal. She didn’t _really_ want us to get caught.”

“Sure,” returned Heyes with a sarcastic inflection. “She just wanted us to _think _that so we’d do what she said. Makes sense to me.”

“But, Heyes, that’s what I …” Kid trailed off rather unhappily. He knew he was right in thinking that Clem meant them no serious harm, but Heyes was right, too—she wasn’t the girl they had known back in ’74. Then he caught sight of the expression on his sweetheart’s face, and realized that things had just become a lot more complicated. Lillian’s pretty mouth was set hard and her eyes were flashing. He stole a quick look at Paula. She was angry, too, though it was apparent more in the look of determination in her face than from actual signs of anger.

“You’d better tell us the rest of the story, Heyes.” Paula had taken out her knitting after finishing her cup of tea, but it lay unheeded in her lap.

Heyes nodded. He skimmed over the remainder of the events as briefly as he could: how he had taken the photograph from the safe, which had proven extremely simple to open; how they had destroyed it in front of Miss Hale, who had then reminded them that _two_ photographs had been made, disclosing that she had the other one in a safe deposit box in Denver; how she had then pointed out real estate broker Winford Fletcher to them, explaining that he was the man from whom she wished to have the money stolen, but never telling them why in spite of their questions. He glossed over the rather complicated confidence scheme they had devised to separate Mr. Fletcher from his money, and ended up with a vivid description of their being introduced—as Joshua and Thaddeus, with no surnames given—to the state and federal authorities who had come to Miss Hale’s hotel suite to discuss her father’s incarceration with her.

“Aside from being scared out of about ten years’ growth,” finished Heyes, “that’s when we found out what she needed the money for, and why she wanted to get Fletcher in trouble with the law. If she had told us it was to get her father out of prison and see him cleared of blame for a crime he didn’t commit, I think we’d have helped her without any hesitation. But no—she came _lookin’_ for us with that photograph, so she could blackmail us with it.” He stopped, with an exasperated sigh. “We never thought, of course, when we had those photographs made, that there’d be a time when we’d be wondering how we came to be so stupid.”

There was a moment’s silence. “That’s the end of it?” asked Lillian. “You haven’t seen her since?”

The two outlaws looked at each other. “No,” said Kid. “There’s more.”

Paula tucked the half-knitted sock back into her work bag, abandoning any attempt to continue working on it. “Pray continue. We’re both anxious to hear.”

“Well, later on, when we’d finished helping Big Mac McCreedy out—you know we told you that I had the brilliant idea of getting him married off to _Señorita _Armendáriz—”

“I never said ‘brilliant’,” objected Kid.

Heyes ignored this. “We ended up with a fair amount of money in hand, and I thought maybe it was a good time to try something I’d been wanting to do for a long time—take the money, go to Mexico, settle down, and wait out the amnesty there. It’d be safer down there. Nobody knows us, and the money would go quite a lot further than it would here.” He favored both women with a smile. “I’m kinda glad it didn’t work out, because we’d never have met the two of you—and that doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“We thought it would make us less likely to be noticed if one of us had a wife.” Kid took up the story. “So we stopped by Clem’s house to ask her if she’d pretend to be married to one of us and come along to Mexico with us for a year or so. We played a hand of showdown to decide whose wife she’d be.” He gave Heyes a look. “I lost, so that made her Mrs. Thaddeus Jones. You understand, Lillie, it was just pretend. Heyes chaperoned us, and we arranged for her to have her own room in the big house we hired down there. It was in Santa Marta, where I’d been framed for murder a few months earlier, and the _alcalde_ was anxious to make it up to us. We wrote to him and he made all the arrangements.”

“When we got to Santa Marta, things started going wrong almost from the beginning,” Heyes continued. “The first thing that happened was that Clem fell in love or something—at least, that’s what it looked like—with the _alcalde_, _Señor_ Córdoba, which made Kid look bad, and put a big hole in our cover story. Then, an American citizen who’d been watching Clem’s house, waiting for us to come and visit—it’s a long story; I won’t go into all that now, but he had jumped us there and we got away from him, and then he’d managed to follow us to Mexico. He showed up in Santa Marta with copies of our wanted posters, arrest warrants, and extradition papers. He’d thought of everything. But he tried to get Córdoba to hold Clem as well—said she was wanted in Colorado on charges of aiding and abetting—and that’s where he made a mistake, because he didn’t have any papers to back that up, and Córdoba wouldn’t do it. He let her go, and later, she managed to talk him into letting _us_ go, telling him about the amnesty offer and everything. He asked us for a substantial contribution to the local economy—” Heyes grinned “—got us horses, and arranged for us to meet the north-bound stage at a quiet spot outside of town.” He smiled. “I suppose Clem _would_ have been wanted in Colorado on those charges, if anybody knew about it, but they don’t. The same goes for you two.”

Paula nodded. “We know that. It’s just a risk we have to take. And as you said, nobody knows.” She looked over at Lillian, whose eyes were still smouldering. “We’ve to work out a plan to get that photograph away from Miss Hale. If we can decoy her to somewhere in north Texas—Oneida[2], perhaps—I’ll write to Captain Parmalee and see if he can lend us Chad or Erik. They both know who the two of you are—” she nodded at the men, failing to notice the startled look on Heyes’s face “and would be safe to ask for help in an investigation of extortion.”

“We need to find her first,” mused Lillian. “I can ask Richard to write some letters. He can find out if she’s still in Silver Springs, or whether she’s living somewhere else now, after the attack you said that man made on her house while you were there. I’ll do that tomorrow.”

Hannibal Heyes had the oddest feeling—as though someone had put down a banana peel for him to step on when he wasn’t looking. The situation had suddenly gotten out of his control. He always liked to think of himself as the one who ‘did the figuring’, but now their two ladies had begun making plans without so much as asking them, or even warning them. He wondered what would happen next. Stealing a glance at his partner, he realized that Kid was a little taken aback as well, but it seemed to be a source of amusement to him.

With a start, he looked up to find that both Paula and Lillian were watching him. “We’re going to need your help to get her to Texas,” Paula said.

“Why Texas?” Heyes decided to make a bid for the leadership of this conversation.

“So we can put some pressure on her, if we fail to get the photograph by using straightforward methods.” Paula looked thoughtful. “A criminal charge hanging over her head would be a good start.”

“But she hasn’t done anything criminal!” Kid broke in, a little dismayed.

Ticking the points off on her fingers, Paula began to make a list. “Extortion. Conspiracy to defraud. Assistance in a confidence scheme. Receiving stolen property. All of those were in Colorado, and the extortion would be hard to prove. But if we present her with an opportunity to do it again, in Texas this time, and make sure there are witnesses, and, if possible, physical evidence, then we have her. That’s where the Rangers come in.” She smiled suddenly at Heyes, and for a moment he forgot all about Clementine Hale.

Seeing that his partner was incapable of responding, Curry raised another objection. “But … that would mean that we would have to plot against her—set her up somehow. I don’t want to do that. I mean, she doesn’t really intend to use that photograph. She told us so.”

Lillian put away the plates from their late snack and came back to sit down at the work table. “Jed, this woman is holding all four of us hostage. Any time she wants to, she can do something which will endanger the future that we have planned. If she is not stopped, she might even be successful in getting the two of you captured and sent to prison. All it would take is for her to lose her temper, or decide that she wants something from you that you’re not prepared to give her, and she may make good on her threat, without thinking ahead about what the results could be. I, for one, don’t intend to leave her in control of our lives. This has to be dealt with. Now.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said in a low voice, looking at his hands as they rested on the table.

Heyes wasn’t so sure. He was unable to reconcile the words that Lillian had used—hostage, endanger, threat—with the pretty little girl they had known for so long, who had once been a friend. He ventured a protest. “But … we’re friends with her.”

“_Were_ friends,” Lillian retorted.

“Precisely,” added Paula. “Friends don’t blackmail one another. That’s not something you can ignore. The friendship is over. Surely you see that, Heyes? You admitted just a little while ago that you no longer trusted her.”

“Yes, but…,” Heyes objected again. He trailed off, unable to put his uneasiness into words. Everything that Lillian and Paula were saying was true, but he still wished there could be some other way out of the difficulty.

Loyally backing up his cousin out of habit, Kid chimed in. “There’s no reason to do anything about it now. Clem told us she’d be careful with the photograph. Besides, I don’t want to see her get hurt—” He caught a glimpse of the expression on his sweetheart’s face, and stopped in mid-sentence.

Paula said coolly, “She won’t be seriously hurt … perhaps not at all, if she’s sensible. We’ll take the greatest care. Chad has been obliged to arrest a woman twice before that I know of—that’s why I want him involved in this.”

“No need for us to bother Cooper,” said Heyes firmly. That didn’t come out quite the way he had intended. He hoped his fiancée didn’t think he was jealous of the tall handsome Ranger whom she had known for so many years. There was no reason for such a thing—after all, she wore _his_ ring on her finger, not Cooper’s. He wished he could clear his head. It felt as if he were trying to make his way through a bowl of molasses. If he could only _think_!

Curry looked unhappy, but said nothing.

Lillian rose briskly and stepped to the back door leading to the garden and the street. She opened it and looked out. “Paula and I must get home. We need to be here at half-past five in the morning; at least, I do. And I see Henry has hitched up my buggy and has it waiting for us.” She pointed to where the mare stood quietly, her reins looped over the garden gate. “We’ll see you in the morning after we’re finished serving breakfast, as usual.” Her tone, though pleasant, was unmistakably dismissive.

Incredulous, Kid Curry realized that they were being thrown out, however politely. He and Heyes had risen when Lillian did, and now they hastily picked up their hats and went to the door that she was still holding open.

Heyes set his hat on his head, then paused, realizing he’d almost forgotten something. He held out his hand to Paula, who came to him readily enough and turned her face up to receive his good-night kiss.

Kid simply took Lillian’s free hand and pressed it for a moment before putting his hat on and following his partner through the door. He didn’t care to attempt anything warmer while his betrothed was so obviously in a temper.

* * *

[1]_q.v_. the first-season episode “Return to Devil’s Hole”, in which we are specifically told that Clara Phillips got the information about Heyes’s whereabouts directly from Lom Trevors. This action on Lom’s part was never explained.

[2] The original name of what is now Amarillo, Texas, which, before the railroad came through in 1887, was more or less a wide spot in the road. For the purposes of this story, I have assumed a little more civilization than was probably there in 1881.


	2. A Hannibal Heyes Plan in the Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyes tries, with suggestions from Lillian and Paula, to come up with a foolproof plan for getting the photograph away from Clem.

**Lillian O’More’s home, Friday, August 19th, ** **late evening**

In her small parlor, Lillian turned from lighting the lamp to find her house guest, whom she already thought of almost as a sister, putting her bonnet away on the shelf in the cupboard and lifting her handkerchief to dab at her eyes.

“You’re not crying?” Lillian went over and put her arm around Paula’s shoulders.

“No, certainly not.” She put the handkerchief away. “I’m not used to being at odds with him, that’s all, or making him uncomfortable.”

“I’d say it would do Heyes a world of good to be made uncomfortable occasionally,” responded Lillian. She led the way upstairs, lamp in hand, to the bedchambers. “If you keep spoiling him like that, he’ll be more insufferable than he is already.” She lit a second lamp in her bedroom, then opened the door to the spare bedroom and lit the bedside lamp there. “I made Jed pretty uncomfortable, too, but it had to be done. Neither of them is thinking straight about this Miss Hale. Here, I’ll unlace you.”

“Thank you. That’s a luxury I can’t get used to—so many years of doing that sort of thing myself. But Heyes is _not_ insufferable.” Freed of her corset, Paula smoothed the wrinkles out of her chemise and stepped behind her hostess to perform the same courtesy for her as soon as Lillian had removed her bodice.

“Thank you. Of course he is.” Lillian stepped back into her own bedchamber to hang up her skirt and bodice. She turned to look Paula in the eye. “You can’t stand there and tell me, with a straight face, that he’s not arrogant. You know he is. He just does a good job of hiding it.”

“I suppose so … but I truly never thought of that.” She looked seriously at Lillian, accepting the chair that the other woman had indicated. “It’s not that I don’t think he has any faults. He has quite a few—and those are just the ones I’ve seen so far. But … but I love him, Lillie. Those things are a part of who he is.”

Lillian was silent for a moment. “You must indeed love him very much. I’m sorry I criticized him to you, but I’ve known him for a while now, and I see a different side of him.”

“Oh, certainly, that’s quite all right. And I expect you’re right. In some ways, he _is_ arrogant, though I should be more likely to describe him as conceited. There’s quite a difference. Not this evening, though. The poor man was looking rather as though a bridge onto which he had stepped had just given way and landed him in the San Miguel unexpectedly.”

Lillian giggled. “Jed wasn’t happy, either—in fact, he looked rather woebegone when they left—but those things had to be said. You don’t think I was too hard on them?”

“No,” replied Paula slowly. “You’re quite right—this problem with Miss Hale must be dealt with, and clearly that was an entirely new idea to both of them. I expect they had done all they could, realized they were getting nowhere, and put the whole matter out of their minds. From what they said, this is something a woman can do better than a man. In addition, _we’re_ not wanted by the law, and there is nothing that Miss Hale can blackmail _us_ with …” She paused, her eyes starting to sparkle. “Of course, we can let her _think_ that there is something she can use against us, or against them with reference to us. That gives me an idea.” Realizing how late it was, she rose quickly. “As you said, we must get up early tomorrow, and here I am keeping the both of us awake. Good night.”

“Good night.” Lillian closed her bedroom door, blew out her lamp, and got into bed. She feared that she would not be able to sleep either; her mind, like Miss Wellington’s, racing from one possibility to the next.

*** *** ***

Walking the six blocks to their hotel, the two outlaws were silent at first. Finally Curry ventured, “Heyes, I think we’re in trouble. In case you didn’t notice, Lillie threw us out.”

A maddeningly superior grin crossed Heyes’s face. “Well, I asked Paula to come and be kissed, and she did. You should have done that with Lillie. Would have solved everything.”

An exasperated snort was his partner’s only response to this display of foolishness. “You really think, just because she let you kiss her, she’s not mad? If you want to think that, it’s O.K. with me.”

Heyes did not reply immediately. He knew Kid was right. That is, he might be right. Paula would never turn him down in front of Kid or Miss O’More—he was well aware of that, and had taken advantage of it in his usual insouciant fashion. He sighed. All right, maybe they _were_ in trouble. He almost wished that he only had to deal with the much simpler matter of Clementine still being in possession of that photograph, instead of this unknown quantity, that the two women they had decided to spend the rest of their lives with had suddenly taken the direction of affairs right out of their hands. It was almost as if Miss O’More and Miss Wellington thought that he, Hannibal Heyes, was incapable of solving the Clementine problem on his own. He mentioned this to Kid, hoping his cousin would reassure him.

The doors of the hotel came in sight, light spilling out into the street even at this fairly late hour. Curry said nothing until they had retrieved the key and mounted the stairs to their room. Then he drawled, “It did kinda sound that way, Heyes. After all, Clem’s still got that photograph. And we still don’t know what she’s likely to do with it next. I guess Lillie and Paula just decided they’re going to do something about it themselves.” He unbuckled his gun belt, laid out oil and clean cloths, and sat down to clean his Colt, wincing a little as he settled into the armchair by the table and took the weight off his injured leg. He was now walking over a mile and a half each day, as Dr. MacKenzie had recommended before they left Idaho Springs, and he could feel the muscles getting stronger, but the leg was still stiff and sore at the end of the day.

Feeling vaguely dissatisfied, Heyes turned from lighting a second lamp and sat down to clean his own gun. After a moment, Kid continued. “That’s not what was makin’ Lillie mad, though. She thought—they both thought—that we didn’t really _want_ to do anything about Clem. And maybe they were right. It’s not gonna be pretty, doing whatever has to be done to get that photograph away from her, even though, like Paula said, there’s no reason for Clem to get hurt. Of course we don’t want to do it—she and her old man were friends of ours back when we didn’t have any, ’cept each other. They helped us a lot back in the day. But that’s water under the bridge now. The girls are right, Heyes—we’ve got to.”

He waited, but Heyes made no comment. “Want some advice?” Curry didn’t look at his cousin, knowing that Heyes’s first answer to that question would always be no. He would usually accept advice, however, if he were allowed to pick his own time for receiving it.

Not having fired his gun that day, Heyes had rather less cleaning work to do than Kid was expending on the Colt. Replacing the cartridges in the cylinder, Heyes pushed the top-break Schofield’s action closed with a snap and holstered it. He wiped his hands with a cloth to remove the oil from his skin and looked up. “Advice about what?”

“The girls are already working out plans to get the photograph away from Clem. You need to take charge of that before they get too far along. Not saying you can’t use their ideas, but you oughta make it sound like you had those ideas all along, and you’re just includin’ what they have to say in your own schemes.”

“But I don’t have a scheme—not yet, anyway,” Heyes reminded him.

“No, but you will. You can’t let it alone. I know you.” Kid ran another piece of rag through the barrel of his revolver, then held the white cotton material so that it would reflect light into the end of the barrel, allowing him to inspect the interior. Satisfied, he began to rub a light coat of oil onto the steel. He glanced across at Heyes. “You’ve already got some idea of what they’re thinking. Paula said we’d need to decoy Clem into Texas—and they’ll need our help for that, maybe a letter or something—and then she talked about involving the Rangers. I’m not sure I see where that’s going, but it won’t take you long to figure it out. You just gotta put your mind to it.”

Heyes nodded, an irrepressible smile beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth. He could never be discouraged for long. “When we go to the Rose tomorrow morning for breakfast, I’ll have the bones of the plan already in place and I’ll just tell them about it. Oh, and incidentally I’ll tell them to go ahead with asking Richard to help verify Clem’s whereabouts—he’ll need Clem’s address, which you can give Lillie—and asking Captain Parmalee to send Cooper or Hunter to give us a hand.”

Keeping his thoughts to himself about Lillian O’More’s inevitable reaction to such a piece of audacity, Kid nodded encouragingly. “Sounds like it should work.” He made ready for bed; seeing that Heyes was busy thinking, looking out the window and not paying any attention, he slipped the New Testament that Jesse Jordan had given him out of his pocket and began to read, as had become his usual practice before retiring.

Heyes had noticed, but he carefully refrained from comment, aware that Kid would begin to hide things from him if he made his questions or distress too obvious—and he had had more than enough of his cousin trying to keep things from him. It was likely to lead to unpleasant surprises, such as Kid’s baptism in the San Miguel River three weeks previously. _Well, not unpleasant, of course not. I just wish he’d given me some warning, that’s all. We usually do things together, and, well … it doesn’t seem to have made any difference in our friendship, but_ … Heyes firmly put that matter out of his mind and returned to the consideration of the problem with Clementine.

*** *** ***

Tying on one of the green gingham aprons which Lillian provided for her employees at the Irish Rose, and preparing to help serve breakfast, Miss Wellington was thinking of the same thing. She had already worked out several possible strategies for getting Miss Hale to Texas and getting the objectionable photograph away from her permanently, but she knew she would have to be very careful in bringing her ideas forward if she were going to restore her fiancé’s confidence, which had been badly shaken the previous evening.

The restaurant was busy enough that she soon had no time to think of anything other than taking orders and serving the food. She had just cleared one of the last breakfast tables and had taken the plates to the kitchen, when Lillian came in from the dining area, her hands also full of plates. Susanne had left to make the bank drop before the forenoon custom began to arrive, leaving only Molly in the dining area to attend to any unexpected customers, since Emily was home with a bad cold. Henry had brought kindling and prepared enough hot water, outside in the summer kitchen area, for Tommy to finish the washing-up job before he, too, had left.

Lillian smiled at Paula. “They’re here. Why don’t you go see if you can comfort them—they look like they need it—and put some fresh coffee on the kitchen table for them, while I put steaks and eggs on to cook?”

A little anxious at this description, Paula poured two cups of coffee from the freshly made pot, added generous dollops of milk to each, and went to the front to see to their guests.

Heyes and Curry were standing, hats in hand, just inside the front door. Carrying the coffee, Paula gave them a welcoming smile and led the way to the kitchen table.

The two outlaws took their seats with alacrity when they saw and smelled the fresh coffee. Heyes greeted her with a cheerful grin that had just a hint of nervousness behind it. “Good morning, sweet girl!”

Paula’s heart melted at the anxious look in his brown eyes. She wanted to take his face between her hands and kiss away the worry; instead, reminded by his mention of sweetness, she said quickly, “Oh, yes, that’s right. I forgot the sugar for your coffee.”

“I’ve got it,” Lillian said. She put a sugar bowl down between the men, together with a small pitcher of heavy cream. “This is for you, Jed. We’ve got to get some weight back on you.” As Kid smiled up at her with a word of thanks, she once again almost lost track of what she had planned to say next. _You would think I’d be used to that smile by now!_ Aloud, she added, “I’ve put steaks on to cook. I need to keep an eye on them, or they’ll get overdone. Paula will get you whatever else you need.” She returned to the stove.

“What we _need_,” said Heyes, with emphasis, “is for the two of you to take the load off your feet and sit down to eat with us. I know you’ve had an early breakfast, but by now you’ll need something more. So get yourself some food and come. Unless we can help carry plates or something.”

“No, I’ll get it, but …” Paula paused. They were, in fact, accustomed to eating a late breakfast with the two men when they could, but the four of them had sat up so late the previous evening, and she had been so deep in thought about the disclosures Heyes and Kid had made, that she had not even thought to make arrangements for this morning. Her fiancé’s worried smile hadn’t helped. Covering her confusion with a murmured excuse, she fled, seizing a pitcher and going out to the pump to fill it.

“A fine state we’re both in,” said Lillian, joining her a moment later with a large jug, “when a pair of sweet smiles can make us forget what we’re doing.” When they returned to the kitchen, she dished up the steaks onto plates which had been heated in the oven, then quickly fried the eggs, two for each man, over hard as they preferred, while Paula scrambled more for themselves. They set the plates on the table and sat down to eat.

Heyes opened negotiations with a confident smile. “If we’re going to decoy Clem into Texas, I’ll need to write to her with a good reason for her to come and meet us there. One reason is obvious: we can’t risk visiting her house again, since apparently some of the local folks know that we’re friends of hers. So if we want to see her, she’ll have to come to us. We’re in southeast Colorado and New Mexico often enough—I can just write to her and say we’re in the area and we thought Oneida would be a good place to meet, far enough away from her house not to be risky for us, but not so far she won’t come.”

“She thinks that much of you that she’d come all that way just to see you for a few days?” Lillian was sceptical.

“I got that figured out, too,” replied Heyes. “I’ve just gotten betrothed and I’d like her to meet my fiancée.”

Kid spoke up. “Paula, that means you’ll have to play a part. I mean, you _are_ betrothed to Heyes, but if you let Clem get one glimpse of you the way you really are—determined, confident, you know the kind of thing—she’ll smell a rat.”

“That sounds like fun,” she responded, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh, I can see it now,” said Lillian. “You can be some inexperienced, harmless-looking lady from Virginia or somewhere, who came out here to teach school, met this nice fellow, Joshua Smith, and decided to get married instead. I have a delightful hat I can lend you.”

“A hat? But I have two with me.”

“This is a perky little thing in white with pink roses on it. It will look really sweet on you, and you’ll _feel_ inexperienced and harmless, like you’re from the East, while wearing it.”

“But I loathe pink roses,” Paula protested.

“Exactly!” Lillian favored her with an encouraging smile. “So you won’t be acting like yourself at all!”

“If you’re going to play that kind of woman,” suggested Heyes, after a moment’s thought and a pause to eat a couple more mouthfuls of his steak, “you can’t possibly know who I am. A girl like that would never get engaged to a bank and train robber, even a retired one. And even if she would, I’d never trust her with my real name.”

“That’s precisely the point,” returned his betrothed. “If Miss Hale thinks you’ve become engaged to me under false pretences, she’ll use that to threaten you with exposure unless you do whatever it is she’s going to ask you to do. It gives her an extra weapon for blackmail.”

“Why would she want to blackmail us about anything?”

“My thought,” Paula rejoined, “is that when you ask her to come and see you, to meet me, she’ll think of something she needs you to do. That’s what is going to make her take that photograph from whatever safe place she keeps it and bring it with her. I think we have to count on that. Of course, if she doesn’t bring it along, that’s where the pressure from the Rangers will come in, to ensure that she is willing to surrender it to them, or do whatever is necessary to place it in your hands. But I think she’ll bring it.”

Kid and Heyes exchanged glances. That remark conveyed more clearly than any words just what she thought Clementine Hale was capable of. Kid sighed. After what they had seen Clem do during the time they had spent running a confidence scheme on Winford Fletcher, he supposed that Miss Wellington was right. He opened his mouth to point this out to Heyes, but saw his partner’s face change, and realized there was no need. Saying nothing, Kid bent his head and concentrated on finishing his breakfast. Heyes seemed to be handling things just fine, and it was obvious that their ladies were in perfectly good spirits this morning, no longer angry with either of them.

Finishing the food on his own plate, Heyes looked up and favored Paula with his crooked smile. “It’s going to take some time to work out the details. Why don’t you go ahead and write to Captain Parmalee, then, and we’ll discuss this tomorrow afternoon after church?”

Handing a piece of paper to Lillian, Kid added, “Here’s Clem’s usual address, Lillie, if you want to ask Richard to see what he can find out.”

“Thank you,” she replied, putting the paper in her skirt pocket.

Heyes rose and picked up his hat. “We’ll see you this evening, then, after dinner as usual.”

Expecting an influx of customers within the next half hour, Lillian nodded as she and Paula began to clear the table.

“I’ll do that,” Kid offered, and took a load of plates outside to the summer kitchen before his sweetheart could object. Heyes gathered up the coffee cups and the bowl of sugar and followed. 


	3. Sad News for the Nation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to Texas, Heyes and Curry hear bad news that overshadows their own worries about Miss Hale.

**Santa Fe, New Mexico Territory, September 20th, 1881**

Hannibal Heyes led the way, guiding his horse through the streets of Santa Fe in the gathering dusk to one of the hotels that catered for English speakers. He, Kid, and Miss Wellington had journeyed south from Telluride after having ascertained Clementine Hale’s whereabouts, and receiving a letter from Captain Parmalee indicating his willingness to send Chad Cooper to Oneida to assist them in building a case against Miss Hale. They had written to Miss Hale before leaving Telluride, asking her to meet them in Oneida, Texas.

Having had the freight road over Black Bear Pass recommended as the quickest way, for travellers going south and east, out of the narrow valley in which Telluride was situated, they had taken that route to reach the good road[1] leading south into Silverton, picking up the stage route from there to Durango, where they could take the train. On their way down to Durango, they had noticed that a rail route was being built through to Silverton, paralleling the existing stage road. The construction crews had not been certain when it would be finished, but it would certainly make the journey between Silverton and Durango much easier.

Top of Black Bear Pass

The spectacular mountain scenery along the Denver & Rio Grande’s recently built route over Chama Pass had been very impressive, adding to the party’s enjoyment on the way from Durango to Antonito, Colorado. Another train from Antonito had brought them as close to Santa Fe as the D&RGW tracks would take them, at Española[2], and they had ridden their horses over the intervening 40 miles to Santa Fe, where they expected to catch an Atchison, Topeka &Santa Fe train to take them as far south as Albuquerque, or wherever the tracks had been completed beyond that. The rest of the journey to Oneida would be on horseback, but the weather was fine and they were in no particular hurry.

Heyes stepped up to the front desk to sign the register, asking the clerk to send someone to take their horses and the mule to the livery stable. As he stepped aside to allow Paula and Kid to sign their names, his eyes fell on the headlines of a newspaper lying on a nearby chair.

“Look at this!” Handing the clerk a dime, he said, “We’ll just take this up with us, if you don’t mind. He picked up the paper and led the way upstairs.

Neither his betrothed nor his partner had seen the headline which had caught his attention; realizing that it must be something important, they both followed him quickly.

Once in the room allotted to himself and Kid, Heyes spread the paper out. They could all see the heavy black border enclosing the headline. 

**_PRESIDENT GARFIELD DEAD. NATION MOURNS._**

“Dead!” Kid’s tone was one of disbelief. “But they said he was gettin’ better!”

Hastily, all three bent over the paper that Heyes held. The article went on to say that the President, shot by a disappointed federal office seeker on July 2d, had succumbed on the previous day, September 19th, growing suddenly worse after an infection had begun in the half-healed gunshot wound, developing a high fever, and dying within a few days after the infection had begun.[3] The Vice President, Chester Arthur, had been sworn in as President of the United States later the same day.

There was a good deal of uneasiness and ill feeling about Chester Arthur taking the presidency, the newspaper article went on to explain, because he was known to be a New York ‘machine’ politician, whom Garfield had chosen as running mate only for a possible campaign advantage. How honest Arthur would be in discharging the duties of his new office remained to be seen. The writer of the article took leave to express his doubts.

Another front-page article described the arrangements being made for a state funeral, with President Garfield’s body to lie in state in the Rotunda of the Capitol for several days so that grieving citizens could pay their last respects.

President Garfield's casket in the Capitol Rotunda (from the James A. Garfield National Historic Site)

Heyes turned to the next page. Yet another article thundered about the state of affairs in the nation, when the spoils system for federal office was so firmly entrenched that someone could consider it his right to demand employment of the new president, thinking the refusal of the desired post sufficient reason for murder. The editor of the paper hoped that something would be done to bring reform, and hinted that Congress was understood to already be considering a law to accomplish this.[4]

“Well, it’s bad news, and I’m sorry to hear it, but I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do.” Heyes laid the paper aside. “At least we’re not in the middle of a war this time.” He still remembered vividly hearing the news of President Lincoln’s assassination when he had just turned 15, but back then, it had been just one more terrible story coming out of the war. This was different. The country was so much more civilized, 25 years later. There was peace. It didn’t seem like a country where someone could just walk up and shoot the president, as Guiteau had done on July 2d. He himself and Kid always ran the risk of being shot by a bounty hunter, it was true, as a consequence of their choice of occupation, but James A. Garfield had done nothing wrong. He hadn’t deserved what had happened to him.

“We can pray for his widow and children,” said Paula soberly. “There are children, are there not?”

“I think so.” Kid was looking through the rest of the paper. “Yeah, here we are. Four sons and a daughter. And the President’s mother lived with them in the White House as well. Thanks for bringing that up, Paula. We should do that right now. Will you? I’m not sure what to say.”

President Garfield's children (from the James A. Garfield National Historic Site)

After the brief prayer, Heyes quietly pointed out that since the train they wanted did not leave until the next morning, they had better find something useful to do until supper time. For himself, he added ruefully, that would have to include writing to Paul Wellington at the C Bar W Ranch to explain to him why his sister was on her way to Texas instead of returning to the ranch as had been planned.

Surprised, Paula turned to face him, her hand on the lever of the door. “He won’t mind, I’m sure. And you could send a telegraph, could you not?”

“I love you.” Confronted with such innocent naiveté, Heyes crossed the room to give her a reassuring kiss. “Darling, of course he’ll mind. He’ll mind even more if I don’t explain it to him pretty quick. And as far as sending a telegraph goes, I don’t want the telegrapher in Estes Park accidentally spreading news that you are travelling with two men all over the south-western part of the state and into Texas, even though you’re being chaperoned. The local folks know us from our visit last winter, and I hope they all think kindly of us, but I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Oh.” She digested this. “I suppose I wasn’t thinking. In that case, I’d better write him a separate letter, not only to explain why I had to go to Texas to help you solve this problem with Miss Hale, but so that the postmaster can see the envelope. Will that do?”

“That’ll be just fine.”

“Something else you ain’t thinking of, Heyes.” Kid was frowning. “Didn’t you say, Paula, that the two of you usually go to Laredo in the winter? What if your brother is planning to do that this year, and he doesn’t even know where you are? Or that you’ll already _be_ in Texas?”

Heyes looked worried. “And we don’t want him in Oneida—I want Clem to think that you’re an orphan with no known relatives.”

“He won’t leave for Texas without hearing from me. I suspect, if you want to know, that with my being gone, Paul will prefer to stay and look after things at the ranch. I know there are some projects he wanted to put in hand, now that I am betrothed, even though we don’t have a date for the wedding. Roy and Ellen will need a place to live after _their_ marriage, for one thing.”

“They can’t build a house in the winter-time,” objected Heyes. 

“No, but there are things that _can_ be done which he’ll probably prefer to supervise personally. I’ll just put all that in my letter. And I’ll tell him not to try to contact me, or you either, in Oneida, until he hears from one of us, since it will interfere with your plan if someone there sees his name on the envelope.”

“I’ll mention that as well.” Opening the writing desk in the corner, Heyes said, “Kid, can I borrow your ink bottle? There’s paper here, but no ink.”

“Sure.” Curry went to extract his letter-writing kit from his saddlebags.

**Oneida, Texas, Friday, September 30th, 1881**

As Kid Curry entered the hotel in Oneida, followed by Heyes, with Paula on his arm, he saw a familiar face. Ranger Chad Cooper unfolded himself from one of the chairs in the lobby and came toward them, shaking hands with the men and bowing to Miss Wellington.

“I’ve been keepin’ an eye out for you ever since I got into town three days ago.” Cooper gestured to the main doors. “Let’s get some lunch at the café down the street. I need to talk to you, and this isn’t a good place.”

Curious, Heyes and his party followed, tethering their horses and the pack mule in front of the café at Chad’s suggestion.

Over lunch, the Ranger explained. He had arrived in town and taken a room at the hotel. From what Captain Parmalee had told him about the matter of Clementine Hale, he had thought it best to establish himself at the hotel openly. She didn’t know him by sight, and any passengers coming into town by stage would be expected to stay at the hotel. He could get acquainted with her without arousing her suspicions. Meanwhile, he had arranged for accommodations for Miss Wellington, Heyes, and Curry at a boarding house on the same street as the hotel.

“I let the hotel manager and the part-time marshal know that I’m a Texas Ranger, here on business, in case we need the manager’s help with Miss Hale later, or I have to ask the marshal if I can borrow space in his jail.”

Heyes frowned. “I hope we won’t have to go that far—that’s if you’re talking about Clem, ah, Miss Hale.”

“I hope not. But it’s better to be prepared.” Chad paused to signal for more coffee. “Something interesting happened, though, when I told the hotel manager I was a Ranger. He said he had a friend here, one of the local ranchers, who would be glad to know that—some kind of trouble with a fellow who’s trying to buy and sell land in the area. He identifies himself as an advance man for the railroad, the rancher told me later, but there’s some doubt as to whether he has any authority to sell land, or any money to buy. The rancher told me he thought it was some kind of fraud scheme. If people buy land from this man, and it turns out he doesn’t have clear title, some folks might get hurt.”

Conversation paused as the waitress came to offer them a choice of sticky buns for dessert. Having made their selections and refilled their coffee cups, the men continued to talk as they ate, while Miss Wellington, taking her time, finished the hot roast beef sandwich she had been served.

“Sounds like they should have sent for a Ranger earlier,” suggested Kid. “I can see why the local marshal wouldn’t be much use, but …”

“Yeah, I asked about that. The hotel manager told me that he had written to Ranger headquarters in San Antonio to ask for help, but he hadn’t heard anything back yet. So I wired them to let them know I was here on a different assignment, and would be happy to look into the land fraud problem at the same time. Wired Parmalee about it, too. Everybody’s happy.”

“We can help you out while we’re waiting for Clem to arrive. That’s if nobody minds if we resume our jobs as part-time Rangers from last winter.” Heyes still got an odd feeling every time he had to describe himself and Kid as Texas Rangers, but, after all, it was a job, and Parmalee had said they were welcome back any time.

“I’ve written to Captain Parmalee about that,” Cooper assured him. “It’s just a formality. He told me to use my own judgment about taking you two on again for the duration of this case against Miss Hale, and I’m to see to it that you’re paid for your time, just like last year.”

“I never thought we’d get paid for Ranger work in connection with this.” Curry was surprised. “That’s useful. And I suppose we should have some kind of authority to use against Clem, if it comes to that.”

“You’d better fill me in on what’s going on with her, and what plans you’ve already made to get that photograph. Not here and now, though. Let’s get the three of you settled at the boarding house. We can talk there.” Cooper laid some money on the table and led the way outside.

* * *

[1] This road, later known as the Million Dollar Highway, was not, at this time, the excellent toll road built by Otto Mears in 1883 from Ouray to Silverton, but it was still a better road than the freight roads over Ophir Pass and Black Bear Pass which brought traffic to it from the mining towns of Ophir and Telluride, thus meriting the description of a “good road.”

[2] The town of Española remained the terminus of the D&RG line, with no rail connection to the AT&SF line at Santa Fe, until a separate rail line could be built in 1887 to connect the two. The gap was occasioned by government regulations restricting the D&RG from building all the way to Santa Fe. [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Española,_New_Mexico#Railroad_era](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Espa%C3%B1ola,_New_Mexico#Railroad_era)

[3] President Garfield was shot on July 2d and had been recovering nicely, but the doctors treating him, thinking (unlike European doctors, who had mostly embraced the idea) that Lister's theories about germs and the washing of hands and instruments were ridiculous and “too much trouble,” introduced infection into the wound with unsanitary practices, and the President died from the infection. <http://www.medicaldiscoverynews.com/shows/336-death.html>

[4] Such a law was eventually passed in 1883, with President Arthur’s enthusiastic support. <https://www.politico.com/story/2018/01/16/pendleton-act-inaugurates-us-civil-service-system-jan-16-1883-340488>


	4. Hannibal Heyes Introduces His Fiancée -- And His Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to get the dangerous photograph away from Clementine Hale without further opportunity for things to go wrong, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry enlist the help of Texas Ranger Chad Cooper. Everyone, even Kid, winds up acting a part in the little play that Heyes devises.

**Oneida, Texas, Tuesday, October 11th, 1881**

Clementine Hale checked into the hotel, unpacked her trunk, and sat down in her room to re-read the very odd letter she had received from Hannibal Heyes. She was well aware that Heyes had begun to keep her at a distance after the incident with the photograph some months earlier; normally, he would not write to her unless he wanted something, or had thought of a situation which could be of mutual benefit to her, himself, and his partner. 

She read again the astonishing paragraph about his having become engaged to marry a British woman who had been living in Virginia and had only recently come out West to take up a position as a school-mistress. Clementine supposed that would be a sufficient reason for Heyes and Kid to want to see her. Kid was likely to be a little upset at his partner’s impending marriage, and Heyes … 

Wondering if Heyes had really fallen in love with this school-ma’am, Clementine considered the idea that he had some elaborate confidence scheme in mind. It seemed so unlike him to be planning to voluntarily restrict his freedom of movement by getting married. Besides, she doubted that Heyes had it in him to be in love with any woman. He was not likely to meet a woman who could appreciate him for as much as he himself thought he was worth. Kid was a different matter—she had always thought that there was a possibility that he and she could end up together. Of course, that was before she had met Ramón Córdoba. Now she was not sure what she wanted to do, though she still had a certain fondness for Jed Curry.

One thing was certain. If Heyes was running some kind of confidence scheme on this Miss Wellington, he would be most anxious that no one should tell the innocent school-mistress who he really was, or what he used to do for a living. That fact would give Clementine some additional leverage, if Heyes and Curry proved recalcitrant about helping her get the money she needed to see to her father’s worsening condition; that is, if the photograph she had brought with her didn’t convince them to help her, as it had done before. 

Well, she was here to meet them as they had asked. All she had to do now was wait for them to arrive. Heyes had told her the whole party would be arriving by stage the following day. She checked the timetable: yes, their stage was supposed to arrive Wednesday at 10:00 a.m. She selected a different hat and prepared to walk downstairs for dinner before following up on an idea which involved paying a visit to the Wells Fargo office.

*** *** ***

In a second-floor room of a boarding house two blocks away on the same street, Heyes shut the case of his field glasses and turned back to look at his partner and Ranger Chad Cooper. “She’s here. She just checked into the hotel.”

“Right.” Chad nodded. “I’ll go on over there and retrieve my room key. If they did what I asked, they’ll have kept the room that communicates with mine free for the two of you. Tomorrow morning, if we leave at dawn, that will give us time to reach the next station down the line to the east, so you two and Miss Wellington can board the stage there. I’ll bring your horses back to the livery stable.”

“And a buggy,” said Heyes thoughtfully. “The clothes that she’s wearing for this—I guess you could call it an impersonation—aren’t really suitable for riding.”

“She’ll hate that,” objected Chad, with conviction. “Besides, it’ll look awfully peculiar if I come driving a buggy back into town, leading two extra horses, even if Miss Hale doesn’t see me arrive, which I don’t intend she should.”

“Paula could change clothes at the stage station, Heyes,” Kid suggested. “I suppose you could ask her which she’d rather do.”

“No, I’ll just tell her. It’ll go smoother that way. And the clothes she’ll need are in that trunk that we took over there two days ago and paid the station master to store for us. But you’re right, Chad—she’d prefer to ride.”

Chad grinned. “It’s a pleasure to watch the two of you getting on so well. I never thought in a million years that I’d see her engaged to be married, let alone bein’ willing to take orders from her fiancé. I guess you really are the right man for her, Heyes.” He turned to go. “I’ll see the three of you tomorrow at dawn, in the alley behind this building. I’ll bring the horses. You’d better arrange to pay for your rooms tonight, so there won’t be any delay in the morning. Oh, and I’ll send up some food for the three of you, since you can’t risk going out this evening.” He touched his hat with his forefinger, slipped through the door, and shut it behind him.

Chad Cooper discusses plans

“Efficient, ain’t he?” Kid watched the street, eventually seeing the tall Ranger emerge and head for the livery stable to see to his horse before entering the hotel where Miss Hale was.

“Well, that’s his job,” said Heyes. “He’s had a lot of practice.”

*** *** ***

Kid looked out the window as the stage drew up at the station. “There she is,” he commented laconically. “Waitin’ for us.”

“Miss Hale?” Paula leaned across his lap, somewhat ungracefully, to look out the window on his side. 

“Little lady, not very tall, dark hair, bonnet with a bunch of cherries on the side.” He indicated Miss Hale with one finger, careful not to be seen from outside the coach.

Miss Wellington settled back in her seat between the two men, frowning. It was probably a good thing that Miss O’More wasn’t here. Not that Lillian had anything to be concerned about—it was obvious to anyone who had seen her and Jed Curry together this past summer that he had no eyes for any other female—but Heyes and Kid had utterly failed to convey, in their brief descriptions, that Clementine Hale was one of those dainty, charming, winsome young women, with a roguish twinkle in her eyes, who could turn men’s heads in the street. _Why not be blunt about it and call her a little minx? That’s clearly what she is. I’ll just keep an eye on Heyes, and on Kid, too, for their own good, of course._ Part of the plot they had developed involved allowing Miss Hale to make a play for Heyes, or Kid, or both of them, if she chose to, while they set up the scheme to retrieve the photograph from her. Paula knew there was really no reason for her to be alarmed either. She had the heart of Hannibal Heyes in her keeping. Just remembering the look in his deep brown eyes as he had gone down on one knee in the dining room of the Metropolitan Hotel in Idaho Springs, the night they had become formally betrothed … She gave herself a mental shake as the stage driver drew his team to a standstill. Best to think about something else. She had a part to play now.

The older couple seated across from them had already descended. Kid followed, and then stood aside to allow Heyes to step down and turn back to help his betrothed from the coach. 

Heyes had not missed the look on Miss Wellington’s face when she caught sight of their quarry, and knew it behoved him to take care, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. He also had a part to play, but with him it was second nature to adopt a cheerful smile and deceitfully pleasant, open demeanour, designed to prevent any observer from deducing what was really going through his mind. He stretched his hands up and swung Miss Wellington lightly to the ground before she even had time to find the step with her foot. “We’re here!”

“Oh! Thank you, Joshua!” Paula put one hand up to steady her hat as a light gust of wind tugged at it. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed, taking in the expanse of the prairie beyond the outskirts of the little town of Oneida. “It’s rather desolate, isn’t it? And so dry!” She put her hand on her fiancé’s arm and lifted the ruffled hem of her skirt to keep it clear of the dust.

Clementine came forward to join the party as Heyes solicitously led his lady under the awning of the boardwalk. Even this late in the year, the sun was hot and bright, and Miss Wellington, while taking a keen interest in her surroundings, was trying to shield her eyes from the glare.

Heyes greeted Clem with a friendly smile and made the introduction. “Paula, dearest, this is Miss Clementine Hale, an old friend of ours. Miss Hale, my fiancée—Miss Wellington.”

“How do you do?” Miss Wellington shook hands. “Joshua has told me a great deal about how you and he and Thaddeus were all friends together when you were a young girl. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” responded Clementine, on her best behavior after the shock of being greeted as ‘Miss Hale’. It was patently obvious that, whatever Heyes had told his betrothed, he had not told her anything of real importance about the old friendship with Clem, nor had he told her his true name and what he used to do for a living.

She swiftly took stock of the stranger. She saw a tall woman, not quite as young as she was herself, with blue eyes shaded by thick dark lashes, and long dark hair coiled up into a demure braided bun at the back of her head, topped by a fashionable chip straw hat trimmed with pink roses, a deep claret-colored ribbon bound around its crown. The lady’s slender figure was shown to advantage by a tailored skirt in a pale ivory muslin sprigged with tiny roses, the waist set off with a silk sash which exactly matched the claret red ribbon on her hat, complemented by the deep pink of the trim on her bodice. 

Fashionable promenade dress with roses[1]

She was, in fact, beautiful, admitted Clementine to herself, though a woman more unlikely to take Heyes’s fancy could scarcely have been imagined. Watching Heyes smiling at the lady affectionately, apparently attentive to her slightest wish, Clem noticed something else. She knew the outlaw leader fairly well, and she was almost sure he was putting on an act. This was proving to be a very interesting situation, full of possibilities.

“As you’ve been travelling so long,” she suggested, “I’m sure you’ll want to register at the hotel as soon as you can.” Her eyes rested on Miss Wellington with courteous interest. “There’s only one here, but it’s beautifully furnished, with the latest amenities. I’ll show you. Then perhaps—” she looked inquiringly at Heyes “—you gentlemen and Miss Wellington might care for luncheon? The hotel dining room begins serving at eleven.”

Heyes and Curry had by this time gathered up their own valises and a trunk belonging to the lady, and expressed their willingness to follow Miss Hale to the hotel.

While they were checking in, the party noticed a tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man who appeared to be in his early thirties, wearing a business-like Colt revolver in a cross-draw holster on his left side, descending the stairs. The man crossed the lobby quite close to them, and tipped his hat to the ladies with a smile. “Howdy, Miss Hale. Friends of yours?”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Cooper,” replied Clementine, responding to his smile with a look of undisguised appreciation. “Yes, these are my friends, Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones, and Mr. Smith’s fiancée, Miss Wellington.” She turned to the others. “Mr. Cooper and I met at dinner last night. He’s here on a cattle-buying trip.”

Miss Wellington extended her hand and Cooper bowed over it, murmuring a conventional greeting. The three men exchanged handshakes with appropriate gravity, none of them giving the slightest indication that they had, in fact, been working together on Ranger business in the area for the past ten days, helping Cooper to investigate a case of land fraud while waiting for Miss Hale to arrive.

“You seem to be pretty loaded down,” Chad observed to Heyes. “Let me help you carry some of that.” Suiting the action to the word, he seized the trunk belonging to Miss Wellington and turned toward the stairs.

“There’s no need to put yourself out,” Heyes said easily, contriving to convey a little jealousy at the attention given to Miss Wellington by the stranger.

“It’s no trouble. I see they’ve given you the room right next to mine, on the second floor.”

“Thank you.” Heyes picked up his own valise and prepared to follow Cooper, the two ladies, and his partner.

Clementine dropped back to walk beside him. She had been a trifle shocked when the party walked over to the hotel. Kid Curry wasn’t limping, and there did not appear to be any unnatural stiffness in his gait, but something was wrong. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the way he walked was different. He was also carrying a beautifully hand-carved walking stick under his arm. She said to Heyes in a low tone, as the party mounted the stairs, “What happened to K—Thaddeus? The way he’s walking …”

“He broke his leg in two places, back in March. It’s a long story—tell you later.”

At the door to the room assigned to Heyes and Curry, Chad turned to Miss Wellington. “I’ll carry this to your room, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cooper, but I’m sure that Joshua would rather do that himself.” With that, she withdrew her gaze from the handsome Ranger and proceeded to forget his existence, bestowing a dazzling smile on Heyes instead. Heyes grinned, picked up the small trunk, and prepared to follow her down the hallway. 

With this confirmation that at least one of the parties to the betrothal actually felt something akin to love for the other, and more curious than ever about how Heyes had met this woman and what had led to the betrothal, Clementine walked along with them, explaining that her room was at the far end of the same hallway, toward the back of the hotel. They had given her that room when she had asked for something quiet, not overlooking the main street. She was a little surprised that Curry, who had always had a soft spot for her, did not offer his arm to escort her to her room, but she supposed his failure to do so might be because his injured leg was paining him. She had not noticed that his gaze, when it rested on her, held no more interest than Miss Wellington had shown in Mr. Cooper.

Making arrangements to meet the others in the hotel dining room at a quarter past eleven, which would give the travellers time to freshen up, Miss Hale continued on to her own room.

Heyes took the opportunity to enter Paula’s room for a few moments. He still took considerable care to avoid putting her in a compromising situation, but he knew that a certain amount of license was permitted to a betrothed couple in being alone together without a chaperon, and he needed to talk to her. He shut the door behind him, took her briefly in his arms, and kissed her. Favoring her with a grin, he said, “I didn’t get a chance to tell you—and I know you don’t care for pink—but you look lovely in that dress.” He indicated the trunk he had just set down. “What have you got in here? Seems awfully heavy.”

“Thank you, darling. This hat—” Paula removed it and set it on the dressing table “—was Lillian’s contribution to this masquerade. I had to find a dress that would go well with it. And to answer your question, what’s in there is more clothing. I’ve to look like someone who came West with no idea of what she was getting into, and couldn’t be parted from her fashionable wardrobe. That’s also why I selected a dress with a light-colored background, as if I didn’t know that’s not the sort of thing one would wear when travelling for hours in a crowded public stagecoach. Are there dirt stains on it?” She turned around slowly.

“No, I don’t think so. You remember I wiped off the seat in the stage for you with my kerchief,” Heyes reassured her. “I think we’ve already got Clem’s attention. She was looking at me like she thought I’d lost any pretence to common sense.”

“Could she tell that you’re acting? I certainly could, though of course I’m not supposed to know that.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s spotted something, the way she was watching me. I wanted her to see that, but it can’t be obvious.” Heyes had lifted the heavy trunk to the top of the low-boy dresser so that Paula could unpack it and stow her clothing in the drawers at her leisure. He turned back to face her. “After lunch, I’m going to notice that you’re tired, and send you up to your room for a nap. That’ll give Kid and me a chance to talk to Clem, let her ask whatever questions she wants to, tell us if she wants us to do something for her, that kind of thing.” He smiled, but his eyes remained serious, a shade of hardness in their depths. “And I have some information to feed to her about how you and I got engaged, and why I was willing to propose marriage to some lady I’d only known a few weeks.”

“You take as much time as you need, lay it on thick with her—whatever you have to do so that she doesn’t suspect the truth. I’ll plan on meeting you again for supper. Just let me know what you want me to do. This part of the operation is up to you, and Kid, and to Miss Hale’s own avarice. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible.”

“Don’t stay too much out of the way! I’ll miss you,” he responded. “Just remember that I love you, no matter what you see or hear.” He came over to her and took her hands for a moment. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

“With Miss Hale, and all the lies you’re going to tell her? Yes, I trust you—you know I do.”

There was only one proper response to this, and Heyes made it, taking her into his arms for another kiss. Reluctantly releasing her, he went to the door. “I’ve got to go. I can’t spend too long in your room, even if we are betrothed.”

“Yes, you must go. I’ll be waiting for you to come and escort me to the dining room.” She pushed him gently out of the room.

*** *** ***

Conversation over luncheon was general. All four felt a certain amount of awkwardness. Miss Hale could not ask the two men the questions she was burning to ask while Miss Wellington was present. Kid could tell that Clementine was expecting him to show a certain amount of interest in her, as he had done the last time they’d met, and he couldn’t do so, his mind and heart occupied with thoughts of Lillian O’More. Miss Wellington’s mind was full of no very friendly thoughts about Miss Hale and her previous blackmail of Heyes and Curry, as well as the blackmail they hoped she would engage in on the present occasion. Heyes’s attention was divided between paying attention to his betrothed and allowing it to appear, to Clem, that he had ulterior motives for so doing.

Miss Hale made an effort to be pleasant and draw Miss Wellington out a little. “Do you like the West? What brought you out this way?”

“Oh, I do like it. It’s just that everything is so strange at first. I daresay I shall become accustomed.” Paula sipped the hot tea, which was, for a small town in the north-western corner of Texas, surprisingly good. “I accepted an offer to teach school in Idaho Springs, just west of Denver. They needed someone in a hurry to take classes for the remainder of the school year after a teacher had to leave for family reasons, so I only arrived there in March. I knew about the area because a countryman of mine had come to Lexington, Virginia, looking for purebred Morgan horses to build up his horse-raising concern in Colorado. His reports of the state inspired me to want to see it for myself.”

_That’s clever_, thought Heyes to himself. _She and her brother really _were_ in Virginia to acquire Morgan horses at one time. Every link in the story rings true. Almost as good a tale as I could invent._

“The British horse farmer mentioned my name to the sheriff in Idaho Springs, a man named Robert Anderson, and so when the local citizens needed a school-mistress in a hurry, he wrote to me and asked if I would take the position, at least temporarily.” She smiled at her betrothed. “And then I had the great good fortune to meet Joshua, so I fear the teaching position will be more temporary than I had thought—unless Joshua and I decide to settle down in Idaho Springs. Even so, they would not, of course, permit me to continue teaching the children after we are married.”

_Clearly_, thought Clementine, _she has absolutely no idea who he really is, or she would know that an idea like that is completely impossible. Hannibal Heyes, settling down in a mining town, married to a school-ma’am and taking a job as a general store clerk or some such thing? And what would his partner be doing? Or doesn’t she realize they’re all but inseparable?_ She stole a glance at Curry, who seemed rather quiet—one might almost call it distracted.

As the meal drew to a close, Heyes said, “Darling, I think you'd better rest this afternoon. I know you’re not used to long stage trips.”

“Of course,” Paula responded meekly. “I shall spend the afternoon in my bedchamber, reading or tatting. And I shall try to get a nap, if you think I should.”

“That’s my girl! I’ll come and knock on your door when we’re ready for supper. About half-past six, shall we say?”

“I shall expect you at half-past six.” She rose, and the gentlemen rose with her. “Miss Hale, I seem to have been doing most of the talking. I should like to get to know you better. Perhaps we can converse this evening after dinner.”

Resuming their seats as she left the table, Heyes and Curry looked back at Clementine. “That gives us all afternoon, Clem,” said Heyes. “Unless you have something else to do, of course.”

“No, I need to talk to both of you,” replied Clementine. “I’ll come up to your room, shall I? Number 205?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Kid paused, his attention caught by a man approaching their table. It was the day-time desk clerk.

“Mr. Jones?” At Kid’s nod, the clerk handed over an envelope. “This arrived for you yesterday. The other clerk had put it aside. He only told me about it just now, when he saw your name in the register.”

“Thanks! Appreciate you going to the trouble to bring it to me,” said Kid, taking the envelope quickly and slipping it into his inside vest pocket. He had recognized Lillian’s handwriting immediately.

Intrigued, Clementine laid her napkin aside and made as if to rise. Heyes quickly stepped behind her chair and drew it out for her. 

On her other side, Kid took a little longer getting to his feet. “Tell you what, Heyes. I’d like to sit out on the porch for a while and get some fresh air. I’ll be up to the room in a little bit.”

“Good. That gives me time to go across the street and buy a few things at the mercantile,” Clem said. “I’ll come up to your room when I’m finished.”

“Sure,” Heyes responded. He guessed that she was curious about Kid’s letter, and hoped that his partner wouldn’t take that amiss.

*** *** ***

On the porch, having seen Clem walk briskly away in the direction of the mercantile, Kid settled down in a wicker chair, slitting the envelope of Lillian’s letter open with his knife. The late autumn weather was pleasant. It was not hot, but it was quite warm enough to make sitting in the sun perfectly comfortable. Absorbed in reading the letter, he didn’t even notice when Miss Hale returned from her errand and mounted the steps to the porch of the hotel.

Clementine knew better than to interrupt him, but she was secretly astonished at the expression on his face. Happy, eager, with a suggestion of tenderness—and all because of a letter? Kid Curry didn’t know anyone who would be writing him letters—at least, that was what she had thought—except possibly Sheriff Trevors, and a letter from him wouldn’t produce that sort of reaction. 

Hastily, she slipped through the double entrance doors into the lobby, not wanting Kid to notice her staring at his correspondence. She decided then and there that she would have to devise a way to get a look at that letter. Neither of the men was behaving like themselves, it seemed to her, and she had thought she knew them pretty well. The accumulated mysteries had left her almost perishing with curiosity. _Well, this afternoon I should get some questions answered. That was very strange, what Heyes did at lunch—sending Miss Wellington to her room, however politely. It almost looked as though he was deliberately arranging things so that he and Kid could talk to me without interruption. Which implies he doesn’t trust Miss Wellington with any secrets. But she loves him, or she appears to. I wonder if she has any idea what he’s really like. And what on _earth_ is he up to? Maybe she has money or something else he needs. But would Heyes do such a thing—enter into a betrothal without really being in love with the lady, just because he wanted something? Yes, that’s very possible._

Hearing a knock on the door, Heyes got up to answer it. “Come on in, Clem,” he said, stepping back to allow her to enter. Kid should be up in a few minutes, if you’re worried about your reputation.”

“No one saw me on the way to your room, so that shouldn’t matter,” she replied, taking off her hat and settling in the most comfortable chair. 

Heyes frowned. “Clem, I’m gonna ask you to take a different chair. I want to leave that one clear for Kid, so he can rest his back and put his feet up. It’s been seven months since the accident, but he’s still in a lot of pain sometimes, even if he won’t admit it.”

“Of course.” She obediently moved to a different seat. “Heyes, you have to tell me what happened—at least some of it. Maybe you can fill me in before he gets here, if he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Skimming over the difficult parts, Heyes gave her a quick outline of the harrowing trip down the Virginia Canyon Road, Kid’s broken leg, getting him the rest of the way down the mountainside to Idaho Springs, and finding a doctor.

“The interesting thing was, the doctor knew us,” he finished. “He’d been up to the Hole, years ago, to treat one of my men for some internal thing—had to operate. He said he could see we were going straight, so he agreed to help us and not say anything to anybody about who we were. He even let us stay in his house while Kid had his leg in a cast, because none of the hotels had rooms on the ground floor. It worked out pretty well.”

He looked up as the door opened to admit his partner. “Everything all right?”

“Just fine,” replied Curry, sinking into the big armchair recently vacated by Clementine. He smiled at her. “What’s Heyes been telling you?”

“Just a little about how you broke your leg.”

“Oh. That. Well, I suppose you needed to know.”

“You poor dear! I’m so sorry! It must have been dreadful!”

Kid grimaced. “It’s pretty much all right now.”

“I told her the doctor knew us, and how he promised not to say anything to anybody,” explained Heyes. “That came in real handy when I met Miss Wellington, a week or so after Kid’s accident. That’s really not the kind of thing she needs to know—that we’re a pair of retired bank and train robbers.”

“So the doctor didn’t tell her?” Clem was intrigued. This confirmed her supposition that Miss Wellington didn’t know about their outlaw background.

“Nobody told her,” said Heyes, with satisfaction. _Which is the exact truth, unless you count the Wyoming lawman who told her brother who we were after that hold-up in 1878. _ “As far as the people in Idaho Springs know, she’s engaged to be married to Joshua Smith, of no fixed occupation. They like me in that town, though. Kid and I helped to stop a bank robbery while we were there, later in the spring.” As usual when running a deception of any kind, he kept the story as close to the truth as possible. 

Clementine hesitated. She wanted to introduce another topic of conversation, but after the discussion had turned to Kid’s injury, she wondered if it would be better to wait, at least until the next day. She didn’t want the boys to think that all the use she had for them was to do something for her. She decided to lay a little bit of groundwork.

“Heyes, I was really glad to hear from you, saying you wanted to meet me here. You see, I’ve been having a little trouble—nothing serious, you understand, but I could use your advice. I don’t really know anybody else to ask.”

“We’d be happy to advise you,” he responded. “You know that, Clem.”

“Well,” she said, with a sudden change of tone, “I’m not sure it’s anything I need to bother you with—certainly not now, if your leg is still paining you, Kid. Let me think about it.”

“Sure,” said Kid. “And don’t worry about my leg. You just let us know.”

“Oh, I will. But right now, I want to know some more about Miss Wellington. I do intend to try to get to know her better—perhaps tomorrow, after she’s rested from the trip, we can spend some time together. But what I don’t understand, Heyes—I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but why would she be willing to get engaged to you? Even if she doesn’t know who and what you really are …”

“I think she fell in love with me,” responded Heyes, coolly.

“But, Heyes,” Clem protested. “She’s … she’s got to be older than I am …”

“She’ll be twenty-nine early next year.”

“Almost thirty! That explains a lot—she must be desperate! Maybe she came out here to catch a husband. You’d better watch out!”

“Well,” drawled Heyes, darting a quick look at his partner and hoping Kid wouldn’t give him away by letting Clem see his shock at what Heyes planned to say next. “See, Clem, I like ’em desperate.”

Curry knew that his partner, true to form, was feeling his way, concocting parts of his plan on the spur of the moment, and that Clem had given him an opening to say what he had just said, but he was still shocked enough to be obliged to bend his head quickly, pretending to be absorbed in some of the carving on the head of the cherry-wood walking stick that Dr. MacKenzie had given him. He needn’t have been concerned, he realized, because Clementine wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Heyes in something very like horror.

“What?” Miss Hale stopped and swallowed. If Heyes meant what he said, perhaps she was not the only one who had changed in the past few years.

“I like ’em desperate,” he repeated. “If Paula was really on the catch for a husband … well, I knew she’d accept an offer of marriage from me without even thinking too much about it. Because, you know, I don’t have a whole lot to offer her right now—no home, no steady source of income. I can’t even tell her my real name. But I need a wife, and she was interested, so … of course it helps, like I said, that she fell in love with me.”

“You don’t love her?” Clementine asked in some surprise.

“Oh, she’s really good company. I like her. I’ll make her a good husband. It’ll work out,” explained Heyes. “Clem, you know we’ve been waitin’ on the governor of Wyoming for two years now. I’d say it’s pretty obvious he’s not gonna keep that promise he made us. We can’t go back to Devil’s Hole—not only because we don’t want to go back to the outlaw life, but I’d probably have to kill Wheat Carlson, if I tried to take the gang back from him, and I don’t want to do that. And we can’t settle down in Wyoming—there’s no statute of limitations there. So Kid and I thought we could settle down somewhere on the western slope in Colorado or New Mexico, somewhere nobody’s likely to know us, and live honest until they’ve forgotten all about us. For that, it’ll help a lot if I’m a respectable married man. Paula won’t ever have to know what I used to do for a living.”

“I suppose you can’t risk telling her?” Miss Hale’s mind was darting ahead, exploring possibilities; besides, she was genuinely concerned for Heyes’s predicament.

“No. The lady’s English, and she’s been living in Virginia for a long time. She’s very respectable and well brought up, worries a lot about the social conventions. I’m pretty sure she’d call the whole thing off if she found out I was wanted for bank and train robbery.” Heyes got up and paced over to the window before coming back and resuming his seat, giving Clementine a chance to absorb what he’d said, and realize what a wonderful opportunity it presented her with. If she were to make a threat to disclose matters to Miss Wellington, it would ruin his whole supposed scheme to settle down.

Miss Hale was, in fact, thinking over that very point. She knew Heyes—he wouldn’t have made an elaborate plan like this, on which so much depended, without having some kind of scheme in reserve in case the first one didn’t work. She wondered what it would be. The plan he had told her about was shocking enough. _Well, why not just ask?_

“What if she does find out? What are you going to do?” She noticed a piece of lint adhering to her skirt and paused to remove it, giving Heyes a chance to catch his partner’s eye and glance toward the door.

Kid struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane, following Heyes’s instructions to allow Miss Hale to think he was far worse off than was actually the case. “If you two don’t mind, I’ve got to move around a bit. The leg stiffens up on me if I sit too long in one place. I’ll just take a walk down the hallway and come back.”

“Don’t be gone too long. Clem can’t be in our room without both of us here—people might talk,” Heyes reminded him.

“Back in about ten minutes,” Curry promised. He wondered what Heyes had to say to Clem that he didn’t want an audience for. Presumably he’d find out later.

Turning back to Miss Hale, Heyes continued smoothly, the bare bones of the idea he’d thought of having just been fleshed out by what he’d said to Kid. “I’ve got another ace up my sleeve, if that happens. I told you Paula’s pretty conventional.” He paused, watching Miss Hale’s expression, and trying to keep his own face straight at the idea of describing Paula Wellington as conventional. 

“Go on.”

“All I have to do,” he said casually, “is to sort of forget to tell Kid to meet us, or accompany us, sometime when we plan to be gone for several hours. Better yet, some emergency could happen—accidentally, of course—and she and I could be stuck overnight somewhere, alone. I wouldn’t actually do anything to harm her, certainly, but I could compromise her reputation—she’d be glad to marry me as soon as I wanted, no questions asked. She could never go home again if she didn’t.” He waited, but Clem made no response. “So it’s all taken care of. In a couple of months, you’ll be able to congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Smith.” He grinned cheerfully, with the dangerous smile Clementine knew so well, the one that failed to reach his eyes. “I’ll tell Paula to send you a wedding announcement.”

Feeling a trifle stunned, Clementine couldn’t seem to think of anything to say. He had indeed changed, if he was capable of treating a lady who cared for him with such callous disregard. It would, on the other hand, make her own plans easier to carry out—much easier. Better not to bring that up just yet. She needed more time to think.

She changed the subject, and a few minutes later Kid Curry came back in, giving her an excuse to break off the conversation and return to her own room.

* * *

[1] This dress is from 1888, rather late for the story, but it conveys the general idea.


	5. Clementine's New Scheme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyes is in his element, arranging all the details of his plan to allow Clem opportunity for blackmail so the whereabouts of the photograph can be ascertained; meanwhile, Clementine thinks she is the only one with a scheme.

**Tuesday, October 11th, afternoon**

“That’s going pretty well,” Heyes commented to Kid after he had watched Clementine all the way down the hall before shutting the door and turning back to face his cousin’s quizzical gaze. “I’ve given her all the ammunition she needs to blackmail me about my betrothal. She wouldn’t even have to use the photograph, though obviously I hope she does, since that’s why we’re here.”

As usual, Curry was waiting for his cousin to stop talking. When Heyes fell silent, he said, “I was kinda wondering why you wanted me out of earshot. Any particular reason?”

Heyes opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, there was a slight noise behind him, at the window looking out onto the side street, and Kid’s gun was in his hand, cocked and levelled. When he saw Chad Cooper calmly using his knife to force the latch of the French window leading to the balcony, Kid quietly de-cocked his revolver and holstered it.

Chad entered the room and shut the window behind him. “Anything wrong with the door?” Heyes asked.

Unsmiling, Cooper responded, his Louisiana accent very pronounced, “Easier to come across from the balcony of my room, so that Miss Hale continues to think we don’t know each other. I’d like a word with you, Heyes.” His tone was distinctly unfriendly.

Conscious of a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach, the outlaw leader said cheerfully, “I was just going to ask if you were able to hear anything, the way we set it up.”

“Yes,” the Ranger replied. “I opened the connecting door on my side, which put me right up against the back of your wardrobe here. Moving it in front of the suite door was a good idea. I could hear everything you and Miss Hale said.” He stepped closer. “And I have something to say to you—alone, if you don’t want your partner to hear.”

“Kid can hear anything you want to say. I’ve no objection.” Privately, Heyes thought that it might be safer for him if Kid were present.

“Does this have anything to do what you said to Clem while I was out of the room?” Curry asked.

Hastily reconsidering, Heyes reviewed his options and decided that a straightforward approach would probably be the best. His cousin, at least, would know he was telling the truth. “Go ahead,” he said quietly. 

“Just this. If you try to do anything to Miss Wellington like what you just told Miss Hale you would do—compromising her to force her into marriage—or if I find out you’ve already done it, so you could set up this scheme, I personally will take you out in the street and pound you into the ground. And every other man in Company B—all fourteen of ’em—will come up here from Laredo as soon as I tell ’em what happened, so they can help me finish you off. You’ll wish you’d never been born.”

Heyes reflected that if he really had been planning to do something dastardly to Paula, he had just found out, contrary to what he had let Clem believe, that she didn’t lack for protection. The entire complement of Texas Ranger Company B would be hunting him, in addition to her brother, whom they had left out of the story they were telling, letting Clem believe that Miss Wellington was an orphan with no close relations.

Before he could explain, Kid spoke up. “You told Clem _what_?”

“Just what he said. That was after Clem asked me what I’d do if Paula found out I was wanted for bank and train robbery and tried to call off the engagement.” Heyes looked from Chad to his cousin and back, aggrieved. “Well, I had to think of something fast. Have to admit I didn’t expect her to ask that, or I’d have had something worked out in advance. You know I’d never actually _do_ it! Don’t you?” He looked from one to the other again, a little pale. Kid would believe him, but Cooper was another matter. Honesty was the only approach that had any chance of working now. “I love her, Chad, and by some kind of miracle, she loves me. She’s the wonderful woman I thought didn’t exist, that I never thought I’d find. I would never hurt her, or even endanger her reputation if I could help it.”

Chad relaxed slightly. “I know she loves _you_. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. But I won’t stand by and see her get hurt. We had enough of that last January, down in Laredo. If your partner hadn’t belted you one that day …” He stopped. There was no need to belabor the point, and he knew that Heyes, as reserved as he was, would justifiably resent such an intrusion into his personal affairs. Instead, after a pause, he continued, “Have you told Miss Wellington about this idea of yours? About threatening to compromise her?”

“Not yet,” Heyes replied readily enough. “I haven’t even told her what I said to Clem about her being desperate for a man, since she’s almost thirty, and me saying to Clem that I like desperate women.” He smiled at Chad’s look of disgust. “But I’m going to. Paula has to know, in case Clem starts feeling sorry for her and decides to warn her about what a devious, bad man I am. I know I shocked Clem a little. She might just do something like that. Kid, would you go down to Paula’s room and ask her to come here for a few minutes? Tell her I need to explain some things to her, and our room’s better than hers for holding a conference.”

“Sure,” said Curry. “Be right back.” He picked up his walking stick, which he had dropped when he drew his gun on Cooper, and left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Heyes glanced back at Chad, relieved to see that the cold, dangerous look had vanished from the Ranger’s expression. “I want you to hear this. It’ll give you an idea of how I make up schemes as I go along, and show you how Paula and I communicate. I hope you can see for yourself that I haven’t given her any reason not to trust me.”

In no time at all, it seemed, Kid’s tap sounded at the door. His whole face softening as he saw his fiancée enter the room, Heyes gestured toward the most comfortable chair.

Miss Wellington took her seat, and the men sat down as she did. She nodded to Chad. “I didn’t know you were going to sit in on this conference.”

“I asked him to,” Heyes explained. “I need to tell you what I’ve fed to Clem in the way of a story, and Chad had some questions about it.” He quickly outlined the history he had given Miss Hale, the majority of it quite fictional, though there were some real facts, such as their having become engaged in Idaho Springs, and the idea that he and Kid were frustrated after waiting for two years on the governor’s whim. “And then, when she realized that you were almost thirty years of age—that’s the way she put it, not me—Clem said I ought to be careful, because you must be desperate to catch a husband. That must be why you were willing to come out West at short notice to teach school. So I said, ‘I like ’em desperate.’ She was actually a little shocked.”

“I should think she would be,” murmured Paula. “No doubt she hadn’t any idea you were such a …”

“‘Cad’ is the word you want, I think,” supplied Heyes, with a wry smile.

“Yes, that’s it exactly. Pray go on, Heyes. I wish I had been able to hear this.”

“I’m just as glad you didn’t. Well, that allowed me to tell her my story about needing a wife to give us some cover—get married, settle down on the Western Slope somewhere under our assumed names, and lay low until the Wyoming authorities forgot about us. So when I found you were attracted to me, and were, like Clem said, desperate to catch a man, I just went ahead and proposed marriage.” He smiled. “Of course, none of that is true, but it’s plausible.”

“It’s very far from being the truth, so I’m glad you told me, because I shall have to add it to the part I’m playing.” Paula sighed. “I had resolved, several years ago, never to marry. Chad can attest to that—he’s known me longer than you have.”

Cooper nodded gravely. Every man in Laredo knew how reserved Miss Wellington was, and how uninterested in matrimony.

“But then,” she added, her gaze resting on her betrothed, “I met you. And everything changed.” 

Taken by surprise, and unable to think of anything to say, Heyes blushed.

Curry thought to himself that if Cooper was still inclined to doubt that Heyes was serious, he shouldn’t have any trouble believing it now. He gallantly stepped in to rescue his partner. “Clem asked what would happen if you found out that your husband-to-be was a wanted man. Heyes said he was sure you’d call the whole thing off. Seein’ how he’d just told her how important it was to have a wife as a cover, that kinda messed things up. Naturally, she wanted to know what he planned to do if you found out. He signalled me to find some excuse to leave the room, I guess because he figured I’d be so shocked at what he was gonna say next that I’d give the game away.”

Recovering his usual aplomb, Heyes took up the narrative. This was something he had to tell Paula himself, the sooner the better. And she wasn’t going to like it. “After Kid left—he said he had to walk up and down the hall a little, ’cause his leg was stiffening up—I told her I had an ace up my sleeve. All I’d have to do would be to get you into a compromising situation—say we go for a drive somewhere and something happens to the buggy, or the horses are run off; anyway, we’d be stuck spending the night alone together. After that, I told her, since you’re such a conventional lady, you’d be happy to marry me as soon as I wanted, with no argument. Of course I wouldn’t really do you any harm. I told Clem that.”

As he had feared, Paula was staring at him in what appeared to be complete disbelief. He said nothing further, waiting for her reaction.

“Heyes, you scoundrel!” she said softly. “I didn’t know you had it in you even to think of something that bad!”

“Well, it was all I could think of in a hurry that would fit the story I was telling her. I was kinda making things up as I went along.”

“Oh, I can tell it was one of those sudden ideas you get. If you had thought it out in advance, there wouldn’t be so many holes in the scheme,” said Paula calmly.

“_Holes_ in it? But—” He stopped, running over the scheme in his mind, realizing she was right, and hoping that Miss Hale would not be so perspicacious. “Darling, I know I shouldn’t even have suggested such a thing as part of this masquerade, but it was the only thing I could think of right then. I know you must be angry. If it’ll make you feel any better, hit me.” At least, Heyes reflected, she would not be likely to slug him hard enough to knock him off his feet, as his cousin had once done when given a similar invitation. He thought he owed it to her to at least give her the opportunity.

“Hit you? I suppose that is a possibility.” She stood up and walked over to him. Heyes hastily came to his feet. “Close your eyes.”

He did so, wondering what she was going to do. He felt her hands close on his shoulders, then, suddenly, her lips were touching his. He instinctively reciprocated, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Raising his head after a moment to catch his breath, he looked down at her lovely face. She looked so sweet that he was obliged to give her another kiss—this time a much longer one. Realizing that he was giving his partner and Chad Cooper occasion for varying degrees of amusement, he pulled himself together and released his betrothed, firmly leading her back to her seat.

Paula saw Chad hesitate and glance toward the French window before resuming his own chair. “Chad? Don’t go. We … that is, Heyes and I, appreciate your chaperonage. Besides, I expect you have business to talk over with them. It’s I who should go. I must unpack my trunk and change my dress for supper.”

“Wait,”Heyes protested. They hadn’t really finished discussing the original issue: his threat to compromise her and force her into marriage. “One thing I didn’t hear you say, Paula, that I was hoping to hear, is that you know I’d never really do such a thing.”

“But I don’t know it,” she murmured, looking at him speculatively. “It seems to me just the sort of thing you might do as a part of one of your more outrageous plans.”

“You’re wrong about one thing,” declared Heyes. “I would never force you to marry me. Darling, surely you know that!”

“Yes, of course I do. I’m sorry—I wasn’t thinking of that aspect of it. In any case, you wouldn’t have to. I’m wearing your ring, and you have my promise to marry you—and you have all my heart, you silly man,” she added quickly as she saw the worry in his eyes. “There is a promise I should make to you as well. I will never do that to you, either. Force you into marriage, I mean.”

He exclaimed, “You couldn’t!”

“Oh, yes. All I’d have to do is to encourage you to ... well, get me into a delicate situation. Assuming you’re not the kind of man who would walk off and leave me in such a case, and I know you’re not.”

Shocked, Heyes could only manage to shake his head. “Oh. No, of course I … Great merciful heavens, Paula! You wouldn’t want me to …”

“You’re quite right, I shouldn’t like that at all. I want to wait until our wedding, to have everything be right. So I promise you I’ll never do that. We have to be honest with each other. No manœuvring, no blackmail, no underhanded dealings between us. Agreed?” Her blue eyes met his brown ones with an intent look.

“Agreed!” said Heyes, with relief. He looked at the other two men. “You can both witness to that.”

Chad and Kid both nodded. “I’ll witness to it gladly,” said Chad. “I’m glad to find I was wrong about you, Heyes.”

“Wrong about him?” Miss Wellington leaned forward, looking from one to the other. “Chad, you didn’t seriously think he would harm me? Or my reputation, for that matter?”

“I wasn’t sure,” replied the Ranger. “He made it sound awfully convincing when he told Miss Hale. I didn’t see it, but I heard it.”

“How could you hear it?” she asked. “Did you conceal yourself in this room?”

“Didn’t have to.” Cooper displayed the arrangement that he, Heyes, and Curry had made after he had told the hotel manager, on plea of secret Ranger business, to put Smith and Jones in the other half of the two-bedroom suite when they arrived. “We moved the wardrobe over here, in front of the connecting door. All I have to do is open the door from the other side and press myself up against the back of the wardrobe. I can hear everything anybody says in here, and Miss Hale won’t know a thing about it until we want her to.”

“Speaking of Miss Hale,” Paula said, after approving this arrangement, “if you’re going to compromise me, Heyes, or pretend to, in order to convince her you were telling the truth, we’ll have to work out the details, because it will never succeed as it stands. If she decides to blackmail you with a threat to tell me who and what you are, and you lose control of the situation and she actually does it, she’ll expect me to break the engagement and depart for the stage station directly. It doesn’t give you any time to implement Devious Plan B. You’ll have to do it beforehand.”

None of the three men said anything, so she continued, “It would be easy enough. We could be out somewhere for an afternoon ride or drive, and have something occur to scare our horses, or have someone—say, Kid—steal the horses and buggy while you and I are looking at the scenery, or each other. You could arrange it so we’re far enough out of town that walking back would be impossible, but there’s shelter nearby, maybe an abandoned line cabin. We’d have to spend the night, and you’d just be perfectly solicitous all night, anxious for my comfort. Later, when I say I want to break the engagement, you can point out that I probably don’t want to do that, not if I want to be able to face Virginia society again.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Cooper said sharply. “I won’t agree to that.”

“Neither will I,” protested Kid, thinking involuntarily of the very real tragedy that lay behind Lillian O’More, whose reputation had been ruined when she had unavoidably passed much of the night in the company of a boy still in school, with whom she had gone to find the doctor for a medical emergency in his family. In the small Kansas town where she lived, it had been an irreparable disaster, and had led directly to her coming West alone, eventually founding the Irish Rose café. “If your brother found out about it, he’d probably shoot me, since I promised to chaperon you two.”

“We could work it out so that we’re not actually out there alone all night,” said Heyes, nodding in approval. “Clem just has to believe that we are. It’s a good idea, Paula. I hope we don’t have to do it, though. After all, what we’re really here for is to get that photograph away from her, and we don’t even know if she has it with her.”

“She does,” said Chad. “This morning, after I got back to town with your horses, I saw her going into the bank. I had already told the bank manager that I have a warrant to search any safe deposit box rented by Miss Hale, since she’s suspected of receiving stolen property that we’re trying to recover. I asked him to inform me if she did, in fact, rent a lock box, so we’ll know what we’re up against. He told me that she rented a small one and put a long, stiff envelope into it. I didn’t ask him—yet—to tell me what was in the envelope or let me see it, but I can’t think what else she’d want to put into a lock box at the bank.” He grinned at Heyes. “She sure wouldn’t want to keep that photograph in the hotel safe, not with you here in the same building.”

“That’s true. I saw the safe here. It’d take me about five minutes to get into it. Do you really have a warrant?”

The Ranger nodded soberly. “Yes. When Captain Parmalee told me what you were trying to do here, I thought I’d better be ready with any legal back-up we might need, so I had that worked out before you three showed up from Colorado.”

*** *** ***

After supper at the hotel, Heyes and Kid left to see if they could find a poker game, though the chances of a good game on a mid-week evening in this tiny town were slim, leaving the two women to pursue their acquaintance further without interference. Heyes knew this would put a certain amount of strain on Miss Wellington, who was not accustomed to participating in confidence schemes or playing a part, but to try to prevent from them getting acquainted might make Miss Hale suspicious. He would have to leave things up to his fiancée’s good sense and her determination to see this matter through, which, if anything, was greater than his own.

Original Oneida (now Amarillo) Hotel, built in 1887

Unable to sit on the front porch of the hotel, as the desert grew cold quickly after sundown, Miss Hale and Miss Wellington had ensconced themselves in a corner nook of the lobby, where they could talk quietly and still have enough lamplight for Miss Wellington to work on a piece of knitting.

Clementine watched her fingers flying back and forth, the needles clicking softly against each other as she threw the working yarn around the tip of the right needle to make each stitch. “My mother taught me to knit,” she ventured, “but I never learned to do it very well, and after she died, I just didn’t keep it up. And it was different somehow. She held the yarn in her left hand.”

“Ah, that’s Continental knitting,” replied Paula. “Some women say it’s actually quicker than the English style that I use. I can do it, but it’s not as comfortable for me, certainly not faster, even though I do favor my left hand.” She looked up and smiled at Miss Hale without pausing in her work. “And I would have to look at it, which I don’t, with this.” She hesitated, then rearranged the sock needles and the yarn in her hands and began knitting again, more slowly, forming each stitch by dipping the tip of the right needle down to catch the yarn stretched between two fingers of her left hand. “This is what your mother taught you?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Clementine. “That is, I think so, but there were only two needles.”

“I’m only using two at a time,” explained Paula, “but there are five because I’m making a sock, which has to go around the … the _limb_ without a seam.”

“Who’s the sock for?” _As if I couldn’t guess_, mused Clementine, looking at the lovely warm brown wool.

“Ah … Joshua, of course.” Paula bent her head over her work, blushing furiously. _First I nearly used the word ‘leg’ in reference to what this sock has to fit, and then I nearly slipped and said ‘Heyes.’ Well, at least I don’t have to conceal the blush. That fits with our cover story._

“You must be quite fond of him.”

“Why, yes—that is, of course I am. I love him. Isn’t that what a betrothed woman is supposed to feel towards her intended?”

“Not necessarily,” replied Miss Hale. “You could have decided to marry for any number of other reasons, and thought that Joshua would make a kind and comfortable husband.”

“Oh, I see. There is that, of course, but I don’t think I could consider marrying a man for whom I did not feel some considerable degree of affection. As it happens, I couldn’t help but fall in love with him. He’s just like all the most wonderful men one reads about in novels! I suppose it sounds ridiculous, in this modern age, to compare him to a storybook knight, but that’s what he has always seemed like to me.” _If that doesn’t convince her that I’m some fragile, rather helpless damsel who has no idea what she’s getting into, I don’t know what will. “_We’ve known one another for less then seven months, but I’m quite sure he’s the one.”

Clementine was silent for a few moments. _I really ought to warn her_, she thought. B_ut Heyes wouldn’t have told me all that if he didn’t think I’d keep it to myself. Perhaps I can warn her _and_ turn the knowledge to good account. I still don’t know if the boys’ll be willing to do what I need them to do, or if I’ll have to apply some pressure. But this girl—well, she’s four years older than I am, but she’s still just a girl—ought not to have been allowed to come out West alone. Certainly she oughtn’t to be permitted to marry Hannibal Heyes when she doesn’t know any more about him than that. A ‘storybook knight,’ indeed! I didn’t even think that about him when I was sixteen! _

*** *** ***

When Heyes and Curry returned to the hotel, having actually managed to find a poker game that could use two more players, they saw the two ladies sitting in the corner, still talking. 

“You shouldn’t have waited up for me,” Heyes said to Miss Wellington. “I’m afraid we’re kinda late getting back this evening.”

“You found a game, then?” she asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we did. Come on, I’ll escort you to your room.” He offered her his arm and they walked over to the desk to obtain both room keys and pick up a small lamp to light the darkened upstairs hallway.

Kid glanced inquiringly at Miss Hale, who shook her head. “I’d like to stay here for a little longer. But …” She dropped her voice. “Kid, I need to talk to both of you about something—you and Heyes. It’s private. When’s a good time to see you both alone, without Miss Wellington?”

“That sounds like it’s something serious,” drawled Kid. This was, of course, just what they had hoped for.

“Oh, no, not really serious. It just makes it awkward when she doesn’t know who the two of you really are.”

“That’s true. Tell you what—why don’t you come up to our room in about half an hour? I’ll go on up and tell Heyes you’re going to join us, so he doesn’t spend too long with Miss Wellington, or start getting ready for bed before you come.” He nodded to her and walked across to the stairs, leaning on the carved walking stick in his left hand.

Heyes was standing in the doorway of Paula’s room with the door swung wide. “I’m sorry to have left you alone all evening, sweetheart, but I couldn’t figure out any other way for you and Clem to get acquainted. How did that go?”

“Pretty well, I think, only now I fear that she thinks I oughtn’t to be let out alone. I acted as silly as I possibly could, telling her that although I didn’t know you very well, I was quite sure that you were just the most wonderful man imaginable, like … well, like a storybook knight, I told her.” Paula blushed. “Oh, yes, and we talked about knitting for a bit.”

“A storybook knight? Are you sure you don’t mean a storybook highwayman?” asked Heyes, trying and failing to keep his face straight.

“Well, that, too, of course. But I couldn’t mention anything to her about highwaymen—it’s likely to give the game away. Perhaps I can say something about it later.” Paula couldn’t keep a serious front any longer. She burst into giggles, putting up her hand to hide her mouth.

Firmly, Heyes took her hand from in front of her lips and bent his head to kiss her, effectively smothering her laughter. “Good night, darling.”

“Good night.”

When Heyes turned from shutting her door, he saw his partner coming toward him from the top of the staircase. “Where’s Clem? I thought she would want you to escort her to her door.”

“She’s still downstairs. Tell you when we get to the room,” returned Kid.

Quickly he explained to Heyes what Miss Hale had said about needing to speak with them alone. Heyes nodded and stepped out onto the balcony. A low murmur of voices told Kid that he was passing the information to Chad Cooper so the Ranger could make arrangements to listen. Clem’s desire to see them alone sounded promising.

When a soft knock sounded at the door, Heyes went to open it, taking a clean cloth so that he could protect the door handle from the gun oil on his hands. He cocked his unloaded gun with his left hand, hoping he wouldn’t need to use it, because Kid had removed the cylinder from his Colt and was using a small brush to reach the small crevices in the corners of the frame. “Clem?”

“Yes. Let me in. No one else is out here,” she whispered.

Heyes swung the door open and stepped back to let her enter. Shutting the door behind her, he de-cocked his Schofield and resumed his seat by the table near the wardrobe.

Clementine watched curiously as he resumed his cleaning task. “Heyes, surely that’s not loaded?”

Heyes grinned and broke the action on the revolver to display the empty cylinder. “It was a bluff. We don’t usually have both our guns unloaded at the same time, but since you were the only person we were expecting, I thought I’d risk it. Probably shouldn’t have.”

“What did you want to talk about, Clem?” Curry picked up a fresh cloth and began to work on the barrel. As she did not speak immediately, he put down the cord that he used as a bore snake and looked up to smile at her. “We can listen to you while we’re working on our guns.”

“Oh, I know. I was just trying to figure out how to explain.”

The two outlaws exchanged glances. That sounded ominous.

“I’m sorry to bring this up when it was you who asked me here just to meet your fiancée, Heyes, but I’m going to need your help—both of you,” Clementine explained in something of a rush.

“Well, now, Clem, you know we’d be happy to help you,” Kid reassured her.

“Unless you want us to do something illegal,” added Heyes. “We know we owe you a favor for talking _Señor_ Córdoba into letting us go, when we were all down in Santa Marta, but we have to think about our amnesty, too.”

“Of course. I understand the amnesty is important, but I think you can figure out a way to do what I need and not have it get around that Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry have gone back to their old ways. That’s why I’m glad we’re in Texas. You’re not wanted in Texas—nobody knows you here.”

“We’d like to keep it that way,” said Kid.

“Almost nobody.” Heyes was thinking of Big Mac McCreedy, though the rancher was really no danger to them, having made it clear long ago that he had no intention of trying to turn them over to the law. He was even more friendly to them now that he was married, an event in which they had taken a hand. “Come on, Clem, out with it. At least we don’t have to worry about that photograph you have of the three of us. It’s in your safe-deposit box in Denver, right?”

She put her reticule down on the edge of the table and gave her skirts a little shake, flouncing in her seat as she did so. “As a matter of fact, I brought it with me. It’s in a safe-deposit box at the bank here. I put it there just before your stagecoach got into town this morning.”

“Clem …” Kid met her eyes, an uneasy look on his face. “That sounds like you thought you might need it.”

“Well, yes, I did think that. But I hope I won’t. Let me tell you what needs to be done.” She leaned forward in her chair. “It’s Papa—my father. He’s been ill. We weren’t sure what was wrong, so he was examined at the hospital in Denver. They think he’s dying—of some kind of stomach cancer, they said.” She looked from one man to the other. “The good news, I suppose, is that they don’t think he’s in any immediate danger. They said they thought he might have a year or more left. But the bad news …” She stopped and caught her breath. “You see, as he gets closer to the time he might die, he’ll need skilled, careful nursing, possibly for several months. And the hospital—they’re not set up to do that. They said it’s not really something I can do, either, because he’ll need expert medical care. He will need to go to some kind of special place. There is no place like that in Colorado, and the places I found back East all want a great deal of money before they will even consider it. They told me at least twenty thousand dollars.”

Heyes and Kid looked at each other. Kid whistled softly.

Clementine looked eagerly from one to the other. “You see? That’s why I need you. I’m going to have to steal that money; that is, you are. I’ll help you, of course. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little more than that—something for me to live on, because I’ll have to move East with him and find a place to live there. Come to think of it, maybe Miss Wellington could give me some advice on that.”

Heyes was shaking his head. “Clem, we want to help you and your pa. You know that. But there are all sorts of ways we can go about this besides going out and stealing thousands of dollars. There’s time. We can figure out something that’ll work.”

“But there isn’t time,” she protested. “He has these lapses, or at least, he has had in the past. There’s no knowing when he might become too ill to travel. We could get a nurse of some kind to help on the way, but that costs money, too. And I have to be able to write one of these sanatoriums for reservations for him, and … well, it can’t wait.”

“Uh-huh. And what were you planning to do if Heyes hadn’t written to you, asking you to meet us here?” asked Kid.

“I learned a lot about how to run a confidence scheme the last time you helped me. I was thinking of something like that, or I thought maybe I could try to find you. It was just perfect that your letter arrived in such good time, suggesting a meeting. Except it was postmarked Telluride, Colorado. Where on earth is _that_, and what were you doing there?”

“It’s over on the Western Slope, west of Silverton,” replied Heyes. “Kid’s sweetheart lives there. He and Miss Wellington and I ended up spending the summer in Telluride. But let’s get back to this hare-brained idea of yours. There is no way we are going to steal twenty thousand dollars for you. We’re just not going to do it.”

“No, that’s true,” said Clementine, with decision. “You’re not going to steal twenty thousand dollars. You’re going to steal thirty-five thousand dollars. It just so happens there’s a group of ranchers with holdings east of here who transfer that amount of money every month to a mining exploration company east of Tucson, in Arizona Territory—near some little town called Tombstone. I found that out some time ago. You remember our trip to Santa Marta? A man at the stage stop in Tucson mentioned it, described the route, everything. He used to work for Wells Fargo as a guard—he told me he quit because it was just getting too dangerous. I thought about it when you asked me to meet you here in Oneida. The money is sent by Wells Fargo, and the route they take passes just south of this town.”

“Wells Fargo? Clem, have you gone out of your mind?” Kid stared at her, appalled. “We never did anything like that even when we were robbing banks and trains.”

“Yeah,” Heyes agreed. “And there’s a real good reason for that. Holding up a Wells Fargo messenger can get the company real interested in stopping you, and they don’t much care how they do it. We’d like to live a little longer. Clem, we’re not gonna do that.” He observed a stubborn look in her face, and added, “Look, we want to help you get money for your pa. But this just isn’t gonna work.”

“Besides, we don’t even know what route the stage takes, when it comes through, how many guards they normally have—all the kind of thing we’d have to know before planning anything like that,” added Kid.

Heyes sighed. His partner was trying to be helpful by conveying their refusal to Miss Hale while soothing her at the same time; unfortunately, she was likely to take that remark as a form of encouragement. Then it occurred to him that they _wanted_ to encourage her to be as outrageous as possible so she would make a credible blackmail threat in Chad’s hearing.

Clementine looked from one man to the other. “I can find out some of those things for you. It will be easier for me to go to the Wells Fargo office here in town and ask questions than it would be for you.” 

“The only thing that will do is direct suspicion to you. It won’t help us with what we’d need to know if we were actually planning to do this job. And I keep telling you we’re not going to do it, Clem. So there’s no need to find out anything like that, because the robbery isn’t going to take place,” said Heyes firmly.

“Do I have to remind you,” she said after a moment’s silence, “about that photograph? I don’t want to do either of you any harm, but I will send it to Wyoming if you don’t help me. I mean that.”

The outlaws looked at each other. Here it was, right out in the open. She really was prepared to blackmail them. _It hurts to hear her say that_, Kid thought, _but that’s the kind of thing Chad Cooper needs to hear so we can get the photograph away from her. That’s what we came here for, after all_. He sighed. _ And Lillie was right, when she said the friendship is over. She was right._

Not quite as shocked as his partner, because he had seen this coming—Clem really didn’t understand the consequences of what she was doing, and that guaranteed she would act impulsively, as she had just done—Heyes knew it was up to him to seize the opportunity she had presented them with. He said, an amused undertone to his voice, “You can remind us all you want, Clem, but it won’t make any difference. I don’t believe you have that photograph with you. I’m not even sure I believe you ever had that second photograph, because I’ve never seen it since it was made, back in ’seventy-four.”

She stared at him in astonishment. This wasn’t going nearly as smoothly as the first time she had used the threat of giving the photograph to the authorities. What had come over Heyes? Clearly, he was not prepared to cave in so easily this time. “It does exist, and I do have it,” she assured him, “but it’s in the bank here. I can get it out and show it to you tomorrow.”

“You go right ahead,” Kid advised. “Then we can discuss this some more, once we’ve actually seen it.”

“We want to see it,” added Heyes, “because we’re not falling for that again, with you pretending you have it so you can get us to do whatever you want. But I’d almost rather risk you sending that photograph to Wyoming than risk holding up a Wells Fargo messenger. It’s just too dangerous.” He sat back and awaited developments.

Clementine’s pretty mouth hardened. “I’ll get it out of the bank tomorrow, so you can see it. And you needn’t think you’re going to be clever, and search my hotel room for it, because I’m not going to leave it there when I’m not in the room.” _I suppose I was wrong, down in __Santa Marta__, when I told them I knew they’d do anything to get their hands on it, because I know they won’t try to search me, even if they would pick the lock of my door so they could search my room._

She hesitated before continuing, but only for a moment. She was willing to do whatever it took to get their help for her father. “Heyes, there’s something else you haven’t thought about. If I tell Miss Wellington who and what you are, or anything about your reasons for getting married, or that you don’t really love her, she’ll call off the engagement. And you won’t be able to put your horrid little plan for compromising her into action, because I’m going to warn her not to go anywhere alone with you.”

Inwardly, Heyes was smiling. This was exactly what they wanted. He allowed an anxious expression to cross his face. “Clem! You wouldn’t do that—tell her I’m a wanted outlaw! Would you?”

“I have to get your help with this robbery. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure of that,” she replied in a determined tone. “I suppose it would break her heart, if she really loves you, but it’s better than letting her marry a man she knows nothing about. I’m not sure I shouldn’t tell her anyway.”

“No, Clem, don’t tell her.” Heyes’s tone was worried, with a note of panic underlying the worry. “I plan to make her a good husband …”

“Well, that’s up to you. I’ll show you the photograph, since you both say you need to see it, and you can think over what I said. I won’t tell Miss Wellington anything if you’re reasonable.” She rose, picking up her reticule with a decisive gesture. “In the morning, gentlemen.” The door shut with a soft but definite snap behind her.


	6. Clementine Hale Gets a Dose of Her Own Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Hale finds that Heyes's betrothal to the sweet, innocent, Virginia schoolteacher is not quite what it seems.

**Wednesday, October 12th, 1881**

At breakfast, everyone except Miss Wellington was rather subdued. Heyes had had no chance to do more than whisper half a sentence to her when he escorted her to the dining room, letting her know the trap they’d set to catch Clem was closing right on schedule.

Appearing not to notice her betrothed’s silence, Paula helped herself from the dish of excellent poached eggs resting in front of her, and prattled in a cheerful fashion about the history of the strange, waterless terrain south of the town and why the Spanish explorers had named it the _Llano Estacado_. “It’s been translated as the ‘Staked Plain’—I’ve seen that on maps here, but that’s not right. I had a governess once who was from Spain, so I speak fairly good Spanish. It means something closer to ‘Palisaded Plain.’ I think that’s because it’s surrounded by bluffs and escarpments.”

Edge of the Llano Estacado

As they finished their meal, Clementine said briskly, “You’ll have to excuse me. I have to go over to the bank this morning. Shall I meet you in the lobby when I come back, Joshua?”

“Sure. We’ll be there.” After Clementine left the breakfast table, he said, “Paula, you’ll have to let me send you off somewhere so Clem can talk to us in private and show us that photograph.”

“Of course. I have to buy a few items at the general store down on the corner. You just suggest my leaving and I’ll do the rest.” She observed his rueful frown and added, “It doesn’t matter if she thinks that you’re in the habit of ordering me about—in fact, it might help the impression we’re trying to give her.”

When Clementine entered the hotel lobby, she saw the two outlaws and Miss Wellington sitting in chairs grouped in one corner. Miss Wellington, her head bent over a difficult piece of tatting, did not look up, but Kid spotted Clem right away and waved her over to join them. 

She nodded meaningfully to Heyes, who said casually, “Paula, dear, weren’t you saying that you had to look for some special yarn at the general store? Why don’t you take care of that now?”

“I fear that ‘look for’ will be an accurate description,” Miss Wellington replied. “From the appearance of the shop, I doubt whether they will have what I need. However, I shall go and see.” She rose without further ado, tying the ribbons of her hat more securely under her chin as she crossed the lobby.

Resuming their seats, Heyes and Kid motioned Miss Hale to sit across from them. She sat down willingly enough, but looked at Heyes curiously. “Do you always treat her like that?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know. Telling her what to do all the time.”

“But I didn’t!” His expression was innocent. “You must have noticed that I just politely suggested now was a good time to do that errand.”

“You told her to leave. And she did it.” Miss Hale shook her head. “I’m starting to feel sorry for her. A good thing it’s she and not I, that’s all. Marrying you, that is. I still think someone ought to warn the poor girl.”

Heyes drew in his breath sharply. “Clem, please don’t tell her I’m a wanted outlaw! It’ll destroy my engagement—and our chance at happiness. She really does love me. It would hurt her, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“I won’t tell her. Unless you make it necessary by refusing to help me.”

“Where’s the photograph, Clem?” Kid looked her up and down, his expression hardening.

She slipped her hand inside her bodice and withdrew an envelope. Slipping the cabinet card from the envelope, she turned it so they could see the photograph, carefully keeping hold of the edges. When they had taken a good look, she returned it to the envelope and restored the envelope to its hiding place. Later, she would take the opportunity to move it to a more secure place, though still on her person.

“It’s going to stay with me until I have a chance to return it to the bank. So there’s no use searching my room looking for it. What I want to know right now is how you plan to carry out the robbery. You said you’d have to get a look at the terrain south of here. Why don’t you start with that?”

Just then the door to the street swung open, admitting Miss Wellington. Heyes noticed that she had a small package in her hands, so her shopping must have been successful to a certain degree. When the men had taken their seats again, he said, “Thaddeus and I are planning to ride out south of town and look at some things. There’s a beautiful canyon: Timber Creek Canyon, I think it’s called. It would be a nice place to have a picnic lunch, Paula, if you’d care to go with us. You have a riding habit, don’t you?”

“Why, yes, that would be delightful!” She smiled sweetly at Heyes, making him a trifle dizzy. He knew she was acting the part of an innocent, flirtatious girl, but she did it so well, and there was real love in the smile she kept only for him. Miss Wellington continued, “It would be lovely if it could be just you and I to go.”

Seriously alarmed, Miss Hale interrupted. “Joshua, I think we should all go. A picnic lunch sounds very nice.” In view of what Heyes had told her the previous day about his plan to compromise his fiancée, she was not about to let the two of them go out somewhere alone for an indefinite time, even if Kid agreed to accompany them. She didn’t mind blackmailing the outlaws herself, in a good cause, but standing by and watching Heyes do it to a lady he claimed to be fond of—that was another matter. She couldn’t bring herself to let it happen without making a push to stop it.

Heyes exchanged a quick look with his partner. He knew why Clementine had invited herself along, but he was annoyed. If she was with them, they’d be obliged to do some actual rock-scrambling, which he had been hoping to avoid, for Kid's sake.

Kid laid a hand on his partner’s wrist for a moment. “I think that’s a great idea. Picnic lunch for all four of us.” _I’ll be all right, Heyes. Stop your worryin’_. “The only thing is, Clem, you don’t ride, do you? The way we were plannin’ to go, a buggy can’t get through. The roads aren’t that good.”

“I can ride,” she replied stoutly. “I don’t have a riding habit, but …”

“I have something I can lend you,” Paula suggested. “You’re shorter than I am, and I have a riding skirt that was hemmed up improperly. It’s too short for me and I’ve not taken the time to modify it. The skirt is wide enough for you to be able to ride astride in a Western saddle, as I do when no side-saddle is available.”

“That’s settled, then. I’ll arrange for the horses to be ready in an hour, and Thaddeus, if you would see about the lunch?”

“I can do that, Joshua. I think that old injury is bothering Thaddeus.” Paula stood up.

“I’ll come with you,” said Clem, rising to join her.

“Right. Everybody meet back here at half-past eleven.” Heyes collected nods from everyone and set out to walk to the livery stable. They could use their own horses, since Clementine had never seen them and wouldn’t recognize them. A horse would have to be hired for her, but that was easy enough.

**Wednesday, 3:30 p.m.**

After caring for their horses and leaving them at the livery stable, Heyes and Kid returned to the hotel and began to mount the stairs, intending to return to their room and clean up before rejoining the ladies, whom they had left sitting in the lobby by the window, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. Having perforce left his walking stick in the room while they rode out to survey a possible site for a hold-up of the Wells Fargo stagecoach, eight miles south of the town, Kid climbed the stairs without its aid, leaning on the railing a little as he did so. 

Heyes realized that his cousin was actually limping—it did not appear to be put on for Clementine’s benefit. “You all right?” he asked as they stepped out onto the second floor landing.

“Fine,” Curry returned. Seeing the look on his partner’s face, he added, “Well, the leg hurts. I think all the scrambling around on that rocky hillside aggravated it a little.”

“And we didn’t really have to do that—we were just keeping up appearances for Clem,” said Heyes, annoyed again. “You’d better take some of Mac’s ‘Magic Potion’ and try to get some sleep. Now, before dinner.”

Confirming Heyes’s suspicion that the leg ached more than he would admit, Kid agreed without protest. In the room, he fished the small bottle of tincture of valerian, catnip, and willow bark out of his valise, poured a dose into a glass of water, drank it off with a grimace, and stretched out on the bed, pulling off his boots, hanging up his gun belt and hat, and laying his vest on the bedside table as he did so.

Observing, with satisfaction, that his partner had fallen asleep almost immediately, Heyes removed his own hat and splashed water on his face before replacing his hat, quietly pulling the door shut behind him, and returning to the lobby. 

Seeing him approach, Miss Wellington rose, pretending to be rather stiff and sore from the supposedly unaccustomed hours in the saddle, much to her betrothed’s well-concealed amusement. “I think I’d best go up and rest for an hour, Joshua. I’m not accustomed to so much riding in a saddle of that type. But I’m so glad you asked me to accompany you. The terrain is very striking, even beautiful in its own way. No,” she added, seeing him preparing to escort her. “You stay here and keep Miss Hale company.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Clementine turned to Heyes. “Well?”

Possible hold-up location near Timber Creek Canyon

“If you mean, can we pull it off near the place where the road passes that dry wash leading to the canyon … yeah, we can. I don’t see any serious problems with it—unless, of course, they’ve recognized the possibilities of a location like that and taken their own precautions. We’ll need to do a little more checking.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Kid had to take some of the pain medicine the doctor gave him and lie down. All that rock climbing didn’t do his leg any good. Doc said it would be months before the pain would start to go away. I’ll just relax down here for a while. He’ll be able to get some sleep if I stay out of the room.”

Miss Hale looked thoughtful while murmuring appropriate expressions of concern. If Kid Curry really had fallen asleep, especially if he had been obliged to take medicine to assist him in doing so, she might just have an opportunity to do something she had been wanting to do since the previous day. She hoped to find out more about the mysterious letter Curry had been reading, smiling as he read. After a few minutes, she made an excuse and went upstairs.

Idly watching her as she gained the upstairs landing, Heyes noticed that she turned left. As her own room was at the far end of the hallway to the right, he wondered where she was going. Suddenly it occurred to him that the only thing of any interest to Clementine down the left branch of the hallway would have to be their room. She couldn’t possibly intend to enter their room while he was still downstairs, and when he had just told her that Kid was asleep after having taken a dose of medicine.

Yes. She could. Heyes came to his feet suddenly. This whole business of playing along with her in order to manœuvre her into a position where they could get the photograph suddenly seemed unimportant. In any case, it had gone far enough. If she woke Kid up for no reason, when she knew he was in pain from the rock-scrambling they had done that afternoon at _her_ behest … he needed to stop her before that happened, if he could. Not for the first time in the progress of this scheme, he concluded it was probably a good thing that Lillian O’More had not been able to leave her business in Telluride in order to accompany them. They wanted to get the photograph from Clementine and stop her from doing any more harm, but neither he nor Kid wanted to see her get hurt. Determined to protect his cousin, he bounded up the stairs two at a time.

In front of room 205, Miss Hale silently pressed the door lever downward and pushed gently. The door swung inward obligingly. Leaving it open behind her, prepared to explain to Kid that she thought she had left something in their room the previous evening, she slipped quietly in, glancing toward the two beds. Sure enough, Curry was asleep on the one in the corner farthest from the window, snoring gently. 

Her eyes fell on the vest folded on the bedside table—the same vest in an inside pocket of which she had seen him stow away that interesting letter. She stepped forward and picked it up, sliding her hand into one pocket to withdraw an envelope and a small book bound in soft leather, with the words ‘New Testament’ stamped on the cover in gold. Quickly withdrawing the letter from the envelope and glancing at the return address on the back flap, which was **Miss L. R. O’More, The Irish Rose, 256 N. Pine street, Telluride, Colo., **she stuffed the envelope into the front of her bodice and checked the other inner pocket, finding a small embroidered handkerchief, too small to be a man’s, and a tiny silver cross[1]. 

The sleeping outlaw muttered softly and shifted his position; at the same moment, Clementine thought she heard a sound behind her in the hallway. She would have to take more time to examine her find elsewhere. She carefully detached the watch from its chain and laid it on the table, tucking the chain back into the fob pocket and hastily stuffing the vest under one arm. Before she could turn, she felt a hand and arm encircle her waist, while another hand was clamped across her mouth. The next moment she was lifted bodily from the floor, none too gently, and set on her feet again in the hallway. 

Hannibal Heyes removed his hand from her mouth in order to pull the door shut. “How dare you?” he hissed furiously into her ear. Realizing he could not say what he wanted to say right in front of the door without running the risk of waking his partner, he lifted the diminutive young woman by the simple expedient of clamping her against his chest, covered her mouth again with his other hand, and carried her down the hallway to Miss Wellington’s room, number 208.

Abandoning her one attempt to struggle free, since it only resulted in Heyes tightening his hold until she could scarcely breathe, Clementine perforce awaited events. She was shocked beyond measure. The one thing she had been sure that neither of her old friends would ever do was to lay hands on her. Even now, she knew that Heyes would not search the clothing she was wearing—the photograph was still safe, tucked somewhat uncomfortably into the back of her corset, between her chemise and the laces. And his taking her to his fiancée’s room—what an odd thing, she thought—opened up another possibility. She could still control him by threatening to disclose his true identity to Miss Wellington. She thought for just a moment of screaming as soon as he took his hand from her mouth, but one glimpse of his face, the brown eyes dark with anger, the muscles standing out along his jaw line, decided her against it.

Not taking the chance of releasing his captive with either hand, Heyes tapped his foot gently against the door. “Paula! It’s me! Open up!”

The door opened almost at once. No flicker of expression betraying her thoughts at seeing her betrothed with Miss Hale gripped forcibly in his arms, Miss Wellington stepped back, giving him room to enter with the unexpected guest. She nodded towards the window in the back wall of the room as an indication of where the lady should be set down, and left the door ajar, turning to face Heyes with a suitably puzzled look of inquiry. Not sure what was likely to develop, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt to assure herself that her Colt .44 revolver was within easy reach. Neither of the boys would be likely to draw on Miss Hale, she knew, which meant that if the threat of a gun were necessary, it would have to come from her.

“What did you think you were doing?” Heyes released Clementine. He didn’t trust himself to touch her again, too angry to go about removing Kid’s vest and its contents from her hands until he regained control of himself. Taking up a position between Miss Hale and the door, he looked at his betrothed. “Paula, get those things away from her! They belong to Thaddeus. I’m glad I caught you before you woke him up,” he added, turning back to Miss Hale. “First, you egg us on to scramble all over that hillside, making his leg hurt so badly that he had to take medicine and lie down, and then, after I told you that, you go and burgle our room!”[2] His voice rose angrily. “Clem, you’re just lucky he was still asleep, because if he’d seen you looking at his letter … well, I don’t think you want to know what would happen next. I can’t believe you’d start going through his pockets!”

“I wasn’t going to steal anything,” Miss Hale replied defiantly. “I just wanted to see that letter. I was curious, that’s all. I even left the watch on the table.” She made no further comment as Miss Wellington relieved her of the vest and the items she had removed from its pockets.

*** *** ***

Waking suddenly from a dream-filled sleep, Kid Curry had a vague impression that someone had been standing beside his bed. It was unlikely to have been his partner. He wondered if he had dreamed the whole thing. Sitting up, he looked swiftly around the room and then his glance fell on the bedside table. His watch was there, but his vest, with Lillian’s most recent letter, the New Testament that Jesse Jordan had given him the previous May, the silver cross that had been a gift from Paula, and his pocketbook, containing over three hundred dollars in poker winnings from the previous evening, was missing. Swiftly drawing his gun and cocking it, he checked the wardrobe and the balcony; finding nothing, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. 

He knocked quietly on Chad Cooper’s door. If there had been a robbery, it wasn’t really the concern of the Texas Rangers, but he thought Cooper should know; if, on the other hand, it turned out to be something to do with the confidence scheme they were running on Miss Hale, then he should also be told that as soon as possible, in case he were needed to perform his part. In a few words, he brought the Ranger up to date, then, drawn by the sound of raised voices, he cautiously advanced down the hallway, not taking the time to retrieve his boots or hat. 

*** *** ***

After a very few moments’ thought, Cooper checked the loads in his revolver, set his hat on his head, and went downstairs. At the desk, he saw not only the day clerk, but the manager of the hotel. Nodding to both men, Chad briefly displayed the Ranger badge pinned inside his black leather vest. “Ah, gentlemen. I’m going to have to ask you to keep everyone from going upstairs for a while—maybe an hour. We’re expecting some developments in this case I’m working on, and there may be some shooting. I want the second floor kept clear.”

The manager looked slightly alarmed. “Sure, Mr. Cooper. I think everyone’s off that floor except Miss Wellington, Miss Hale, and Mr. Jones. Oh, and I saw Mr. Smith go up a few minutes ago.”

“I know all about the four of them,” replied the Ranger reassuringly. “Miss Wellington, Mr. Jones, and Mr. Smith are assisting me, and Miss Hale, I regret to say, is a person of interest in our investigation. You just keep anybody else from going up until I let you know.” Touching the brim of his hat to acknowledge their promises of compliance, Chad turned back to the stairs.

*** *** ***

“Well, whether you meant to or not,” Heyes said, his eyes falling on the edge of Kid’s pocketbook protruding from the inner pocket of the violated garment, “you did steal something, because that has most of our poker winnings from last night.” His eye caught by a sudden movement, he turned to the open doorway and saw his cousin standing there in his stocking feet, a cocked revolver in his hand.

“_Clem_?” Kid’s voice was a mixture of anger and astonishment.

“I caught her,” said Heyes grimly, “standing by your bed, going through your vest pockets. I didn’t want to risk waking you, so I just picked her up and brought her here to Paula’s room.”

“I believe everything is here,” Paula interposed. “This is all that she had in her hands.” 

Curry de-cocked and holstered his Colt, resumed his vest and began taking the other things from Miss Wellington’s dressing table, carefully restoring them to his pockets. When he came to Lillian’s letter, he looked up sharply. “All right, Clem, where’s the envelope?”

Realizing by the expression on his face that he was on the verge of searching her with his own hands, Clementine panicked. “You’d better let me go,” she warned, looking from him to Heyes, “if you don’t want me to tell Miss Wellington some things she really ought to know about the man she’s engaged to marry.”

Heyes tried to make up his mind: whether to keep up the subterfuge, or to let it go at this point and hope that Chad Cooper had already gathered enough evidence to carry through his part of the plan. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a blue shirt and black vest, and a flicker of movement to one side of the open doorway. Chad was just outside the room, then, well within earshot, presumably hoping to hear more evidence. That decided him. He met Miss Hale’s eyes a little sadly and gave an infinitesimal shrug. In reality, the sadness was for the final destruction of the friendship they had once had with this girl. She was, of course, at liberty to take it as concern for the possible loss of his fiancée. “Of course I don’t want you to tell her, but I have no intention of letting you go anywhere until we’ve settled a few things, so I’ll just have to risk it.”

Miss Wellington, deducing from this that he wanted her to keep up the pretence as long as possible, even if only for a few more minutes, asked anxiously, “Joshua? What things is she talking about?”

Clementine glanced hastily toward the door, but Kid Curry still stood in the aperture, unsmiling, blocking her escape route. She looked back at Heyes. Not stopping to think whether it would further her own schemes to give up one of the two sure holds she had over Heyes and Curry, thinking only of getting free from this situation that she could not control, she turned back to the other woman, who was watching her with a worried expression, and took the plunge. “Well, for a start, his name’s not Joshua Smith. When I first met him, about seven years ago, it was Hannibal Heyes.” She watched to see what effect this revelation would have, but was disappointed to see only a look of puzzled surprise on Miss Wellington’s face.

“What an odd name!” she murmured.

Catching his betrothed’s look of enquiry, Heyes smiled deprecatingly. “What can I say? My mother’s idea. I was born in Hannibal, Missouri.”

“Oh,” said Paula. “That makes sense, I suppose. I can see why you might have wanted to change it.” She looked back at Miss Hale. “That’s _all_?”

“That is _not_ all!” This was worse than Clementine had thought. Just for a moment, she felt sorry for the innocent Virginia girl, and wished that someone else could have told her that her husband-to-be was a wanted outlaw, but she had gone too far to draw back now.

In spite of his lingering anger over the theft of his vest, and his concern for the whereabouts of Lillian’s envelope, Kid Curry almost choked. Heyes and Paula were playing this out to the very end, both apparently deriving a good deal of enjoyment from the masquerade.

In a gently bewildered tone, Miss Wellington encouraged her uninvited guest. “Pray go on, Miss Hale. I fear I’m very stupid, but I don’t quite understand why you’re telling me this.”

“I’m trying to _warn_ you,” exclaimed Clementine indignantly. “That name doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“Ought it?”

“You never saw it written or printed up anywhere since you came West?”

“I’ve only been in Colorado since March. Where might I have seen it?”

“On a wanted poster in a sheriff’s office, or maybe even in the train station or the post office,” replied Clementine. She had done it now. She had actually betrayed her old friend’s secret. Suddenly she felt a moment of regret. _If only they hadn’t pushed me into a situation where I had to do this. I didn’t really want to hurt Heyes, after all. If he just could have been reasonable…. _ She glanced quickly at Heyes’s face, wondering how he would take this. Rather to her surprise, he wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, his eyes, warmed by a light there was no mistaking, were resting on his betrothed. 

Miss Wellington stood quite still. “A wanted poster?”

“That’s right. Your fiancé, Hannibal Heyes, and his partner are wanted for bank and train robbery in Wyoming, dead or alive, with substantial rewards on their heads.” As Paula made no response, she demanded, “Well? Aren’t you shocked?”

At that point Paula abandoned the subterfuge, which she was no longer able to maintain. The helpless, innocent Virginia school-mistress disappeared without a trace. She shot a quick glance at her betrothed. “Heyes? Is that enough for you?”

“Yep.” He nodded, his eyes as hard as if he were holding up a train. “I guess you and Lillian were right all along.”

Paula turned back to Clementine, almost angry enough to do her violence with her own hands. “Yes, Miss Hale, I _am_ shocked. Shocked that you would so easily betray a secret that could get your friends killed, or taken by the law. How could you do such a thing to men who regard you as a friend? _Why_ would you do it?” She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. “The only reason that occurs to me is that you told Heyes to let you go, and when he refused, you decided to hurt him in any way you could. I don’t even want to look at you!”

Heyes stretched out his hand to her, opening his mouth to say something soothing. There was a very real possibility that someone would get hurt unless he could get Paula to take things a little easier. She wasn’t looking at him, however, and didn’t see his hand. When he shot a glance at his partner, Kid shook his head. “Better stay out of it,” he mouthed silently.

“And none of this is helping us find that missing envelope,” said Paula, eyeing Clementine bodingly.

“I’ll find it.” Curry stepped forward.

“No, Kid, I’ll do that.” Paula swiftly ran her hand down the front of Clementine’s bodice and immediately felt the stiffness where the envelope had been slipped under the edge of the button band. She quickly retrieved it and passed it to its owner, observing that Clementine was so shocked by the way events were unfolding, and by the realization that Paula knew very well who both of the outlaws were, that she could think of nothing to say.

Realizing there was now little point in keeping Chad Cooper out of the swiftly developing scene, Heyes called, “Chad, why don’t you join us?”

Cooper abandoned his position to one side of the door and came in, with a quick look at Miss Wellington. He had never seen her lose her temper in all the years he had known her.

“Do you have everything you need,” Heyes asked him, “to support the charge of extortion?”

“Except for the photograph itself, I sure do. I don’t think she’s returned it to the bank yet.”

“No, she hasn’t. She’s been with Kid or Paula or me all day except for a quick visit to her room. That means the photograph is either on her or in her room.”

“That makes everything perfectly simple,” said Paula. “I’ll search her for it right now. Heyes, perhaps you and Kid would prefer to go search her room anyway, just to make certain, and to avoid your being embarrassed. I suspect I shall have to uncover her corset.”

As they talked past her, Clementine grew more alarmed and outraged. She realized she was about to lose any hold she had over the boys. The one thing she had never expected was that a woman would be available to search her person, or that Paula Wellington, the little innocent that she had pretended to be, would offer to do so. She hoped the handsome cattle buyer would help her, though in the back of her mind, she wondered why Heyes and Curry seemed to know him, and what Heyes meant by ‘support for a charge of extortion’. “What is going on?” she wailed. “Mr. Cooper, help me! They’re trying to rob me!”

“Don’t worry about embarrassing me,” Chad said to Paula over Clementine’s head. “I’ve seen female prisoners being searched before—in fact, I’ve had to do it once.” He turned back to Clementine. “I don’t think I can be of much help to you, Miss Hale. I’m a Texas Ranger, and you are the criminal suspect I was sent all the way from Laredo to investigate.”

Realizing that the whole thing had been a trap from beginning to end, aimed at her, Clementine stared at him in appalled silence. 

Paula stepped forward to start searching, glancing at Heyes doubtfully. She was less concerned with the embarrassment they might be made to suffer than for the knowledge that Heyes and Kid might find this part rather difficult, Clementine having been their friend. “Are you sure you don’t want to go…?”

Heyes shook his head. “I’ve seen ladies’ undergarments before. Well, they weren’t ladies, but the idea’s the same.”

“Clem told us she wouldn’t leave the photograph in her room while she wasn’t there. Said she’d keep it with her.” Kid didn’t appear to be too disturbed, either, at the thought of watching the search.

“All right. Cover me, please.”

Faster than the eye could follow, Chad’s gun was in his hand, cocked and ready. A fraction of a second later, Kid Curry also drew his. The surprise this produced, everyone present except Miss Hale having seen Curry outdraw Cooper the previous winter in Laredo, distracted attention from the two women. Paula began to unbutton Clementine’s bodice. Outraged, still thinking that there must be some way she could stop these events from continuing in their seemingly inevitable progression, Clementine grabbed her wrist.

Seeing there was a possibility that his beloved could actually be harmed, or pulled into a position where her body could be used as a shield between Clem and the two guns pointed at her, Heyes was suddenly galvanized into an action that no one who knew him would ever have thought he would take. Brown eyes blazing and jaw set hard, he drew his own gun. “Let go of her, Clem. I’m warning you—if you don’t, things are gonna get real bad for you. You might even be hurt.” He emphasized his threat by cocking the revolver. 

Clementine was frightened by the look on Heyes’s face. She wasn’t afraid of Kid’s gun, thinking that there was no possibility of his doing more than pointing it at her, and she still didn’t really know what to make of Chad, but Heyes’s anger and sincerity were unmistakable. She looked at Heyes, then shot a quick glance at Miss Wellington. They were operating as a team, almost as smoothly as Heyes and his partner would do. She realized suddenly that they must have known one another much longer than a few months. And it was obvious—quite obvious—that Heyes had not told her the truth when he had said that he merely found his fiancée ‘good company.’ If ever a man was in love…. Releasing Miss Wellington’s wrist, and never quite taking her attention from Heyes’s levelled revolver, she finally managed to get out, “What do you want me to do?”

Swiftly unbuttoning the bodice, Paula said, in a soothing tone—there was, after all, no sense in allowing Miss Hale to panic— “Just keep still. There is no need to move unless I tell you to do so.” She gently pulled the garment free of the other woman’s arms, folded it loosely, and handed it to her. “Here. Use that to cover yourself.” 

Clementine was still staring at Heyes. “You told me that you didn’t love her—that you just thought she was good company!”

“And you believed me?” The smile on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes, and the muzzle of the Schofield didn’t waver.

Standing behind her, Paula could see a rectangular, alien shape beneath the upper edges of the corset lacing. She slipped her knife from its sheath under the busk of her own corset. “I think it’s here, underneath the laces. Shall I cut the laces, Miss Hale, or will you permit me to loosen them without struggling?”

Feeling that if she received any more shocks this day, she might just possibly fall into a real true fit of hysterics, Clementine gasped, “No! Don’t cut them! In this little town, I don’t think I could replace the ribbon easily, and—and it’s the only corset I brought with me.”

“Very well.” Paula quickly returned the little dark-hilted knife to its sheath, untied the bow, and pulled the ribbons loose so that she could get her fingers underneath the top laces. Carefully, she eased the thick envelope free, detached it from the pin which had been used to suspend it in its present location, opened it, and withdrew the cabinet card she found inside. 

After a quick glance, she held it out to Heyes, who took it with his left hand, putting his gun away with his right. He nodded briefly. “This is it.”

Paula let go her breath in a long sigh. “Miss Hale, if you would let me know when this is tightened to your satisfaction?” She began to pull the laces of the corset taut. At Clementine’s indication, she tied the ribbons in a bow and assisted her to put on her bodice again. 

Leaving Miss Hale to button her bodice, Paula stepped back from her, looking at Heyes. She felt rather drained by the events of the past half hour, but it was up to him to decide what to do now. They had accomplished what they had originally set out to do. 

* * *

[1] The words “street”, “avenue”, and similar designations were left uncapitalised in postal addresses of this period.

[2] In American English, the verb**_ burgle_**, meaning _to rob_, is regarded as a humorous backformation from _burglar_, and  
**_burglarize _**is the preferred term in serious contexts. Both came about in the late 19th century—neither is significantly older than the other. <http://grammarist.com/usage/burgle-burglarize/>


	7. Appeal to Señor Córdoba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the photograph now in their possession, Heyes and Kid still have to decide what to do about Clementine's future, while she, desperate to get help for her father, comes up with another plan -- and another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casting:  
Pete Duel as Hannibal Heyes  
Ben Murphy as Kid Curry  
Sally Field as Clementine Hale  
Peter Brown as Chad Cooper  
Richard Long as Counsellor-at-Law Richard Bancroft  
Alejandro Rey as Ramón Córdoba  
Jessica Stroup as Paula Wellington

**Oneida, Texas, Wednesday, October 12th, 1881, late afternoon**

Heyes, holding the photograph that had caused so much trouble, and wondering again how he and Kid could have been so stupid as to allow the two photographs to be made in the first place, was thinking much the same thing. What they had come to do was over. For a moment, he couldn’t make his mind concentrate on the immediate problem of what to do with Clementine.

Chad Cooper intruded upon his abstraction. “I’d better take charge of that.” He holstered his gun and held out his hand for the cabinet card. Noticing Heyes’s hesitation, he added, “If you trust me with it.”

“Sure,” Kid responded, returning his Colt to its holster as he spoke.

“Chad,” said Heyes, “if you were planning to turn us in or arrest us yourself, you’d have done it a long time ago.” He passed the photograph over. “But what do you plan to do with it?”

Miss Hale interrupted, Heyes’s mention of being arrested having given her one final, desperate idea. Not stopping to think too much about it, knowing that if she did, she probably wouldn’t be able to carry it through—and then what would become of her father?—she burst out, “Mr. Cooper, that photograph is _mine_! They’ve just stolen it from me! Aren’t you going to do anything?” As the Ranger made no immediate response, she continued indignantly, “Besides, they’re wanted outlaws—Heyes and the Kid, I mean—wanted in Wyoming for bank and train robbery. The rewards on them are ten thousand dollars apiece. I—I’d split it with you, give you ten percent of it. I need most of the money myself.”

Heyes and Kid looked at each other. Their girls had been right. The old friendship was over. It was just as Lillian had said—Clementine Hale, when provoked, was capable of anything. And she had finally done what she had been threatening to do. No, she had done more than that. Sending the photograph to the railroads which had printed up the wanted posters was one thing—it might make them easier to catch, but they could just take more precautions, or grow beards, or something of that nature. Actually turning them over to a law officer was another.

As angry as he still was over her attempt to read Lillian’s letter, Kid wondered, shrewdly, if she had really meant to do that. There was no harm done, because they had an understanding with the Rangers of Company B, particularly with Captain Parmalee, their commander. That was something she had yet to discover. He watched Chad, who was making a pencilled notation in a small notebook he had withdrawn from his pocket. 

A very grim expression on his face, Cooper looked up. “Miss Hale, I think you’d better sit down.” When Clementine had reluctantly taken a seat at Paula’s dressing table, he went on. “Will you confirm to me what you just said—that this photograph is your personal property?”

Readily, Miss Hale complied. Seeing that this conversation was likely to take some time, Miss Wellington took the opportunity to sit as well. The two outlaws remained standing, Kid Curry leaning easily against the door jamb to take some of the weight off his leg.

Chad nodded and made another note. He read aloud what he had just written. “Miss Clementine Hale, when asked, declared that the photograph in evidence, which this Ranger had already heard her threaten to use as a tool of extortion, was indeed her own personal property.” Looking up, he said, “I believe that answers your question, ma’am.”

Curry whistled softly. Clementine stared, uncomprehending. “But—but they’re outlaws! Why don’t you arrest them?”

“They’re not wanted in Texas, ma’am. You are.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “Extortion, conspiracy to rob a Wells Fargo shipment, conspiracy to receive stolen property, accessory before the fact. I could go on.” He paused. “Oh, by the way. The next time you plan a robbery, you should do a little more investigating first. That money shipment you told Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry about is not being made this month. With all the trouble that’s been going on down in Tombstone—outlaw gangs robbing stages, and two different factions of lawmen accusing each other of collusion and corruption, those ranchers decided that sending a large amount of cash in that direction would be too risky. They’re waiting to see if the town can return to some kind of law and order before they start shipping again.”

“If they told you I said all that about robbing the stage,” she exclaimed, “they’re lying!”

“They didn’t tell me. I heard everything you said to them last night in their room. My room and theirs form a suite. All we had to do was move the wardrobe over in front of the connecting door—gave me a perfect place to listen from the other side. I told the hotel manager to put them in that room when they arrived.”

The implications of this disclosure staggered Miss Hale sufficiently that she could only stammer incoherently.

“Rangers aren’t allowed to accept rewards. We’ve made a couple of exceptions to the rule that didn’t work out.[1] And my captain would have my badge if I accepted a bribe like you’re suggesting. Besides, he’d cashier all of us if we wasted our time chasing outlaws who are only wanted in some other state or territory on non-capital charges. Heyes and Curry know that. They worked with us last winter. Most of the men don’t know their real names—I do, and one other Ranger, and Captain Parmalee does, of course—but even if they did it wouldn’t matter.”

“So,” said Clementine thoughtfully, her mind darting down a new avenue, “you know about the amnesty offer Governor Hoyt made them.”

“That’s right, ma’am. Our captain knows all about that,” replied Cooper, with aplomb. He himself had not known any such thing until just this moment, though he and Erik Hunter had suspected that something of the sort must be in the air, when they saw the correspondence going back and forth between Parmalee and that Wyoming sheriff, after Parmalee had told them that Smith and Jones were former bank robbers. “But if _you_ know it …” He stopped, for the moment at a loss for anything polite to say. This girl was on her way to being as bad as they came. Captain Parmalee had been right—she was not someone that the state of Texas wanted to encourage.

“I’ll save you the trouble, Chad,” said Miss Wellington. “Miss Hale, I had trouble believing it when Heyes and Kid told us about what you’d done and then said you were a long-time friend of theirs. But of all the disloyal, dishonourable, underhanded tricks! You know they’re trying for an amnesty, and you _still_ tried to turn them over to an officer of the law? You are a despicable excuse for a human being!” Her voice shaking, she broke off.

Heyes and Kid exchanged glances. Heyes quietly moved over to stand behind Paula’s chair so he could rest his hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy, dear heart,” he said softly. He had never heard her use such intemperate language.

“What say I go downstairs and see if they can scare us up some fresh tea? And some coffee?” Kid uncoiled himself from his leaning posture against the door jamb and turned to leave the room. 

“Thanks, Kid. Don’t forget to put on your boots first, and get your hat,” said Heyes, with a sardonic smile. “I think we could all use something. Certainly Paula would be glad of some tea, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” She reached up to clasp his hand warmly, saying nothing. “It’s gonna be all right,” he reassured her. “It’s over—at least this part.”

“I’m not so sure it is,” commented the Ranger. “In case it hasn’t occurred to you, we still have to decide what’s to be done with Miss Hale. Curry, when you go down, if you wouldn’t mind telling the hotel manager and the desk clerk from me that we’re done up here? They can let people come up to this floor now.”

Clementine looked from one to the other. “How could he tell them anything like that? If they know you’re a Ranger, that’s one thing, but …”

Cooper nodded. “They do know, but they also know he and ‘Smith’ are workin’ with me. Show her, Kid.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Curry reached through the laced neck opening of his shirt and unpinned the Texas Ranger badge from his undershirt. Parmalee had given them each one the previous winter and had allowed them to take the badges with them when they left Texas, upon their solemn oath not to misuse them in any way. He showed the badge to Clementine and then returned it to its place before leaving to collect his boots and see about the tea and coffee.

Paula rose, reluctantly lifting Heyes’s hand from her shoulder and pressing it briefly. She walked to the door, glanced into the hallway, then turned to pull out a chair from the corner, gesturing to it and to the one where she had been sitting. “Heyes? Chad? Why don’t you both take a seat?” For a moment, as Chad moved forward to accept the offered chair, she was the only obstacle between their prisoner and the door. 

Miss Hale came up out of her chair with a rush, heading for the door with every intention of pushing the other woman out of her way. She had made the assumption that Cooper would not actually fire at her, at least not without considerable hesitation, which would give her a chance to get to the stairs. Before she had covered half the distance, though, she heard the distinctive sound of a revolver being cocked, and found herself covered by Miss Wellington’s pistol—a large-frame revolver, she noticed with some shock, which looked very similar to the one Kid carried. It was pointed directly at her.

“Miss Hale, please don’t assume that I am the weak link in this chain,” Paula warned. “You may be right in thinking that the men would hesitate to shoot you, but I shan’t. That’s partly why I came along on this project. Not to kill, you understand, but enough of a wound to get your attention. And at this range, I couldn’t miss. Be seated!”

Clementine obeyed without demur. 

“Better give me the key,” murmured Chad. “I’ll unlock the door for Curry when he comes back.” Taking the key, he locked the door and put the key in his vest pocket. 

Miss Wellington returned her revolver to its pocket in her skirt, under the drape of the overdress. She was a great deal more on edge than she had let it appear. For a moment, now that Chad had locked the door, she felt as though all she wanted to do was to sit down and cry, but that would never do. It would distress Heyes, for one thing. She turned toward him, trying to think of something to say besides “Darling!”—the only thing that immediately occurred to her.

The outlaw leader saw the distress in his fiancée’s face and stepped forward, putting his arms around her. “The worst part is over now, I hope. You let me worry about things for a while, all right? You’ve done enough.” His lady continued to surprise him. She could be so strong and determined, and she was as capable as a man with a rifle or pistol, if the need arose—and then she needed reassurance and comfort, like any other woman.

Relaxing in his strong embrace, Paula leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, eyes closed. She failed to notice the astonishment mingled with exasperation in Miss Hale’s expression.

“You don’t want to do that, Miss Wellington,” protested Clementine. Receiving no response, she continued, “Your fiancé told me, yesterday, that he was glad you were desperate for a husband, since it would make it easier for him to get you to agree to an engagement.” She paused, remembering that Heyes had also told her that Miss Wellington would break the engagement if she found out he was a wanted outlaw—and that had not turned out to be the case. “Then he said if you tried to break the engagement, he planned to compromise you so you wouldn’t leave him …”

Heyes regarded Clementine with annoyance. She seemed determined to destroy his chances for marriage. Even though he knew her tactics wouldn’t succeed, he found her whole attitude puzzling. He wondered if she were jealous of Paula. He shuddered inwardly at the idea that she might have been romantically interested in him as well as in Kid, and tightened his embrace until Paula protested with a faint exclamation.

Raising her head from Heyes’s shoulder, but making no other move to free herself, Miss Wellington turned her head. “I know what he told you. We planned it together.” She did not add that Heyes’s initial reluctance to enter into the betrothed state was a sufficient guarantee that any talk about his preferring desperate females was just that—talk. “I know that’s why you warned me to take care not to be alone with him. I thank you for your concern, but it’s unnecessary.” 

She hesitated, realizing that if Miss Hale truly was concerned for her welfare, which she might well be—the woman was a bundle of contradictions—the current situation might give cause for misunderstanding. Straightening, she looked up into her betrothed’s face. “Let go of me, Heyes.”

At Paula’s mention that she had helped in the planning, Heyes had dropped his gaze to his boots, uncomfortable at the memory that it had been his idea originally. Now, not quite understanding the reason for her request, he still did not hesitate. He dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back. 

“It’s unnecessary,” Paula went on, meeting her lover’s eyes, “because I will marry you whenever and wherever you wish, no matter who you are, or what you’ve done. You have only to say the word.”

At this unexpected avowal, Heyes flushed to the roots of his hair. Clementine’s mouth dropped open. Just then, a knock on the door heralded Kid Curry’s return with the tea and coffee. 

After Chad had unlocked the door to admit him and relocked it behind him, Kid put the tray he was carrying carefully on the top of the low chest of drawers by the window and turned, to find that his cousin had folded Miss Wellington in his arms and was kissing her tenderly. “The minute I leave the room …”

“That’s all right,” said Chad, chuckling. “Miss Hale and I are chaperoning them.” For all the attention the betrothed couple paid to this, he might as well not have spoken. 

Curry smiled reluctantly and picked up an empty cup. “Clem? Tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please. With milk and sugar,” she replied, surprised at his courtesy. 

Kid supplied her wants, poured out coffee for himself, Cooper, and Heyes, and finally made ready to pour another cup of tea, adding milk to the empty cup first. “Paula? If you want your tea hot, you and Heyes will have to put that off till later.”

The couple broke apart, both blushing. “Thank you, Kid,” said Paula quickly, coming to take the cup and saucer from him. “And a tray of hot buttered toast! How kind of you!”

Sipping her tea, Clementine asked, “Kid? Where’s your cane? You were limping so badly after that exploration we did earlier today …”

“It’s in our room. I don’t need it any more—haven’t used it much since August, though the leg did hurt a bit today, like you said.” 

Letting Clem digest the implication that his exaggerated lameness, too, had been part of the plan against her, Kid glanced over at Cooper, whose eyebrows rose. “I was wondering why that injury got worse all of a sudden.”

“Well, we had to have _some_ reason not to do whatever it was she was gonna push us into,” explained Heyes with a disarming smile.

When everyone had settled down with the hot drinks and food, Chad spoke up. “I know you two were originally thinking that all you needed to do was to get the photograph away from Miss Hale and everything would be fine. It’s not quite that simple now. If she stays in Texas, she’ll face arrest. I have a lot of latitude in how I do my job, but I can’t ignore her plot to rob a Wells Fargo messenger.”

Heyes and Kid exchanged glances. “Well, now,” Kid drawled, “when we first got here we wired Pat McCreedy to see if he had work for us. He wired back to say he’d explain the job he had for us in a letter, so Heyes and I have to stay here at least until that letter arrives.” He glanced over at Heyes again. “That’ll give Heyes time to think of something.”

“I’ve _been_ thinking,” said Heyes, “and all I’ve come up with so far is that we can’t just ask Clem for her word to behave herself, and then let her go back to Colorado. If she needs money for her father bad enough to turn us in for the reward, she won’t give up just because we won’t help her rob Wells Fargo. Kid’s right—waiting here for Big Mac’s letter should give us time enough to come up with something.”

“In that case—” Paula suggested, rising to pour herself a second cup of tea, “—anyone else? Miss Hale?” She turned with the teapot in her hand. At Clementine’s nod, she refilled the cup and added milk and sugar. “She’ll have to come and share this room with me, until you decide what to do. I don’t think we can leave her alone.”

*** *** ***

After they had transferred Clementine’s luggage to Paula’s room, the gentlemen left the ladies to their own devices in the two hours remaining before supper was served. Chad had to write a report to be posted to Captain Parmalee on the following day, and Heyes wanted Kid to try to get some more rest. At the very least, Curry could lie down and take the weight off his leg, while they discussed the events of the day and what to do next. 

In the room the ladies were sharing, Paula curled up in the armchair by the window, knitting and keeping an eye on Miss Hale. When she had disposed her clothing in the wardrobe and chest of drawers to her satisfaction, Clementine collected paper, ink, and pen and sat down to write letters, explaining to Paula that she had promised to send a note to her father every few days.

Once assured that her unwilling hostess was not paying too much attention to her, Clementine finished the letter to her father, took a fresh sheet of paper and began to write a very different letter, this one addressed to Miss L. R. O’More, The Irish Rose, Telluride, Colorado. She could not remember the street address from her quick glimpse of the envelope she had filched, but she guessed shrewdly that a letter sent to the restaurant would reach its intended recipient. Still thinking primarily of getting a large sum of money to help her father, and undaunted by the failure of her two previous blackmail schemes, she began to write.

As a knock sounded on the door, Paula stowed her knitting away in its bag. “That will be Heyes, come to take us down to supper.”

Clementine sealed her second letter, tucked it under the first, and stood up. “I’ll take this with me. They should be able to post it for me if I leave it at the front desk, don’t you think?”

Paula opened the door and stepped back. “Oh, yes, I’m certain of it.” She smiled at Heyes, who had changed into a cream-colored shirt and put on a ribbon tie under his corduroy jacket. “You look elegant, sweetheart. And I haven’t even changed my dress.”

Behind Heyes, Chad touched his hat briefly and stepped into the room. “Miss Hale, may I escort you down to supper?” He offered his arm, and they followed Heyes and Miss Wellington down the stairs. Kid Curry was waiting for them at the foot of the steps, and they all went into the dining room together.

At supper, Heyes suggested that they should all change rooms to ensure that Paula would have some assistance in her task. She wouldn’t be able to watch Clementine around the clock by herself. The ladies should take the room where he and Kid were, while he would take Chad’s room, meaning that whichever one of them was not watching Clementine could get some sleep there. Chad and Kid could take the other two rooms.

When they went to the front desk to arrange the room changes, Chad laid his letter to Captain Parmalee on the desk by the clerk’s blotter pad, asking for it to be posted the next day. Clementine slipped both of her letters under Chad’s, with a brief comment that she had taken the opportunity to write to her father, and was hoping to hear from him within a day or two.

**Oneida, Texas, Thursday, ** **October 13th**

Following breakfast the next day, the entire party met in the girls’ new hotel room to discuss what to do. Heyes stood in the connecting doorway between the two rooms, making sure he had everyone’s attention.

“I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” he began. “We need to figure out some way to come up with the money Clem’s going to need to get treatment for her father. If he has to go to a sanatorium in the East, like she said, and she has to go with him, well, she may not need thirty-five thousand dollars, but it’ll take a fair amount. One thing we can do—if Kid and I can go where there’s high-stakes gambling, we might be able to win enough to supply her with most of the money. We can do that in Colorado Springs, Albuquerque, half a dozen different places.”

“My brother and I have some funds held in reserve that we could contribute,” said Paula. “In fact, if we give Paul the details, he might be able to make some of the arrangements himself, by letter. We might also be able to get credit through our solicitor in London—the lawyer who handled our father’s estate.”

“Your _brother_?” Clementine asked, astonished. “I thought you were an orphan, alone in the world.”

“Ah. That’s what you were intended to think. I am an orphan, as it happens—both my parents are deceased—but my twin brother and I came to Colorado almost ten years ago to set up a horse ranch, which is now reasonably successful. My brother has been looking after things there while I’ve been in Idaho Springs and Telluride with Heyes and Kid.” She saw Clementine look from her to Heyes and back again. “Yes, Paul knows about Heyes, and he approves of our engagement. I’m sure he’d agree we must do something to help your father.”

Kid had been chewing his thumbnail thoughtfully. “If Lillian’s told what the trouble is, she’d probably be able to free up some money for Mr. Hale. You know, Heyes, between us, I think we can come up with what Clem said she’d need. And with Wellington’s help, we could probably arrange it better, too. Those Eastern doctors won’t be so ready to take advantage of a man with business interests in London as they would a girl writing to them from Colorado with no references.”

“I can’t offer any money, but I have business connections in New Orleans,” added Chad. “I can write some letters and see what I can find out. Miss Hale, we’ll need to have some more details about your father’s illness, what the doctors said, and all that.”

*** *** ***

Initially reluctant when she had been asked to sit in on this conference, Clementine had been staring from one speaker to the next, astonished at the direction the conversation was taking. Now she interrupted, heedless of the tears running down her cheeks and falling onto the lace pinned at her throat. “I don’t understand any of this! All of you—trying to figure out ways to help me, after what I did?”

Heyes and Kid exchanged looks. “We haven’t forgotten how kind your father was to us, ’way back in ’seventy-three and ’seventy-four,” said Heyes. “No reason to let him suffer, just because we can’t think of you as a friend any longer.”

“Besides,” added Kid, “it’s the right thing to do. Help you take care of him, I mean.”

Clementine looked at Paula. “What’s your reason, Miss Wellington? And why would you commit your brother’s money? I don’t think you have any reason to feel kindly toward me.”

Paula’s lips tightened. “No, I don’t, after what you tried to do to Heyes—to both of them.” She shot a quick look at her fiancé. “Heyes and I are to be married, and Jed is as close to being family as makes no difference. But as he indicated, it’s the right thing to do. As far as the ranch money is concerned, Heyes will be marrying into part ownership. My brother will certainly take his wishes into account, even though the partnership doesn’t yet legally exist.”

“In other words, you’re doing what you think Heyes would want?” suggested Clementine. A slight smile was the only answer she got to this. She looked at the Texas Ranger, still an incalculable factor. “And you, Mr. Cooper?”

“You can’t stay in Texas, Miss Hale—if you do, you’ll be arrested. I’ve seen the women’s prison over in Huntsville. I’d rather not see you end up there. I guess I’m just trying to help Heyes and Curry figure out some way that won’t happen.”

Feeling guilty now at the outpouring of generosity, Clementine swallowed and took a deep breath. “Then I think there’s something I’d better tell you.” She looked at Heyes. “Don’t blame Miss Wellington, Heyes. I took good care she wouldn’t see what I was doing. Yesterday afternoon, while I was writing to my father, I wrote a letter to your Miss O’More.” This was addressed to Kid, who tensed and came to his feet.

“I saw enough of the address to be able to send the letter to the restaurant,” Clementine continued. “You can’t do anything now—it went out in the mail this morning. I don’t know what to say, except I’m sorry.”

“What did you write to her?” Kid demanded.

“I said I needed a large sum of money for my father, and I was sure she wouldn’t want some ill-disposed person to write to the newspaper there, saying who her friend Thaddeus Jones really was, so she should just wire the money to me in Denver.”

“That would ruin her business! She’d have to leave town. And I’m not having that happen to her again!”

“Not to mention getting us arrested the next time we go to Telluride,” commented Heyes dryly.

His partner ignored this and began to pace. “I swear, Clem, if we have to lock you up, whatever it takes … I’m not gonna let you hurt Lillie or even upset her like that.” He stopped suddenly. “Did you mention my real name in the letter?”

“No. I wasn’t sure she knew it.”

“We’re engaged to be married. She knows.” 

“Kid, take it easy. You’re forgetting something,” his partner interposed.

“What?” He paced across the room, agitated.

“Lillian knows all about Clem here, and what she’s capable of,” Heyes continued. “I think if you wire her directly, and tell her that Miss Hale has sent her a letter …”

Curry’s expression hardened. “Yeah, I guess she does know, at that. What should the wire say?”

“To leave the letter unopened and put it in her safe. It’s evidence, after all.”

Kid stood stock still for a moment. “No, wait. I got a better idea. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. You keep on talkin’ this out.” He strode across the room, pulled the door open, and vanished toward the stairs.

“Miss Hale, if you try anything like that again, I’ll have to arrest you and bring charges,” Chad said baldly. “I’ve got a warrant with me—Captain Parmalee thought I might need it. Once I do that, the legal wheels are in motion and you'll end up in prison in Texas. You can also be charged with extortion in Colorado, so you could end up in prison if you try to get away from us and go back there. Or I can arrest you right now, and ask the local marshal to give me space in the jail here until you can be brought to trial. You won't be getting any letters out of the jail. Don’t think I’m not prepared to do it. I don’t have any use for blackmailers.”

When Heyes protested, saying that he and Miss Wellington could keep a better watch on her if they worked together, Cooper shook his head. “The only other thing to do, since she can now be charged with extortion in two states, is to get her out of the country. And it’ll have to be done pretty quick. After that, if she re-enters either state, she'll be arrested. It’s up to you, Miss Hale. Shall I go to the marshal?”

Before she could reply, the door opened to admit Kid Curry. “Got the business with the letter taken care of,” he said cheerfully. “I wired Richard that an old acquaintance of mine had written a threatening letter to Lillie, and saying I didn’t want her to be upset by it. Here’s his telegraph saying he’ll intercept the letter and hold onto it unopened.”

“Richard?” asked Clementine.

“Yeah, he’s an attorney who sees to all Lillie’s business.”

“You’d trust an attorney with a letter like that?”

“I’d trust Richard with quite a lot. He’s an elder in the local church, and he helped baptize me last summer,” replied Kid. “If he says he won’t open the letter, I believe him. ’Course it helps that you didn’t mention any names.”

“That’s useful. Chad here was just saying that Clem could be charged with extortion in Colorado—that letter’d be evidence, if it’s needed. Good to have it in a lawyer’s hands.” Heyes filled his partner in on what they had been discussing, including Cooper’s threat to arrest and jail their prisoner that very day, and his suggestion that she would have to leave the country. He stopped in mid-sentence as Kid handed him a letter with the return address of the McCreedy Ranch on the back flap. Clementine was handed a thick letter of her own, and a silence ensued, broken only by the rustle of pages.

Heyes looked up from his letter. McCreedy had directed them to go to Tombstone to find a man named Sam Bacon, who was thought to be a witness to the killing, on McCreedy’s property, of the foreman of Señor Armendáriz. McCreedy enclosed a subpœna issued by a Texas judge, which they might be able to use in convincing the witness to return to Texas with them, explaining, however, that any attempt to return the witness to Texas by force would invalidate his testimony. The matter was additionally complicated by the fact that a Texas subpœna was not legally enforceable in the territories of New Mexico or Arizona. Heyes showed the letter to Kid, pointing out the problems they were facing. Since they had already told McCreedy they’d take the job, turning it down due to its difficulty was not an option.

He was interrupted by Clementine. “Fellows, Miss Wellington, listen to this! This is from my father, enclosing a note from the specialist they sent him to see before I left Denver. He’s …” She stopped, blinking back tears. 

Heyes and Curry looked at each other. They had never seen her cry before, until a few minutes ago. 

“It’s good news,” she continued, seeing the concern in their faces. “He was misdiagnosed. They’re not exactly sure what was wrong with him, but it’s not cancer or anything like that. The doctor says …” she glanced at the letter “that he should go somewhere where he can get plenty of sun and warm weather, but there’s no need for him to go east to a special hospital or sanatorium.”

“Clem, that’s wonderful!” Heyes clasped her shoulder briefly. 

“Wait a minute. Just one minute. I’ve got an idea,” said Kid suddenly. “Sun and warm weather? There’s no better place to get that than in Mexico. How about Santa Marta?”

“Kid, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking …” Heyes looked at his partner in admiration.

“What is it?” Chad was puzzled.

“Santa Marta is on the Sea of Cortez[2], on the west side. Last time we were down there, the three of us,” explained Heyes, “Clem and the _alcalde, Señor_ Córdoba, got kinda attracted to each other. It looked pretty serious. If he’s willing to marry her, and if he can meet us somewhere, maybe in Nogales, to take her back with him, then all we have to do is arrange for Mr. Hale to come down and meet us, say, in Tucson or even in Tombstone, and all’s well. You said we ought to get her out of the country.” He smiled at his partner. “Kid, it’s perfect. We’ve got to go to Tombstone anyway. We can take her with us. Then you come back up here to help Chad finish up the land fraud case, while Paula and I take Clem and her father on as far as Nogales.”

“Right. I’d better get a wire off to _Señor_ Córdoba right away.”

“Wait!” Clementine was looking agitated. “Kid, I’m glad to hear that you arranged to get the letter intercepted. I mean that. But now—you’re just going to wire Ramón, that is, _Señor_ Córdoba, and tell him you want him to marry me? Just like that?”

“Well, no, not ‘just like that.’ I thought I’d be a little more diplomatic. Come to think of it, maybe you’d better do it, Heyes. You’re better with words. But Clem, if he agrees, you don’t mean to say you’re not willing, do you? I saw how you looked at him. Or do you think he won’t like it? Once we tell him the trouble you’re in, he’ll be glad to help—that’s my idea.”

Seeing that everyone was looking at her curiously, awaiting her reply, Clementine hesitated, blushing a little. “No, I’m willing. And of course I don’t know, but I think he will be, too. It just seems too bad to throw it at him like that, or rather, to throw _me_ at him.”

“Can’t be helped. Heyes’ll figure out a way to say it right.”

*** *** ***

_Señor_ Ramón Córdoba, the _alcalde_ for the resort town of Santa Marta, 685 miles south of Yuma in Arizona Territory, took the thick yellow envelope marked ‘Night Letter,’ instructed the policeman who acted as his clerk to deny him to visitors, and sat down to open it in considerable curiosity. The only other time he had received a night letter from the United States, it had proven to be from Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones, asking him to arrange long-term accommodations for them and a lady. Even though he now knew them to be Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, former bank and train robbers, he still remembered them with some fondness, especially since they had brought Clementine Hale to Santa Marta.

Clementine Hale. A shadow of sadness crossed his face. He had come to care for her a very great deal, and he was aware that she was attracted to him. But both of them had thought it best at the time that she should leave Mexico, not knowing if they would ever see one another again. It had seemed unlikely. 

He slit the envelope open with a paper knife and began to read. A moment later, he laid the telegraph forms down and sat still, staring at the words on the page in astonishment.

_Estimado Señor_, the message began. _Soy la Señorita Wellington, la prometida del Señor Joshua Smith_. 

_Señorita_ Wellington went on to explain that she was writing at the request of her fiancé and his cousin Thaddeus Jones to beg his assistance for _Señorita_ Clementine Hale. There was a warrant out for her arrest in the state of Texas and the possibility of another in Colorado, but Texas law enforcement officers were willing to hold the warrants unexecuted if Miss Hale were to leave the country and not return. Arrangements were being made to have her elderly father join her and for both to travel to Mexico, with the intention of settling in Santa Marta.

“This next matter is of considerable delicacy,” continued the letter, “and I trust you will pardon _Señor _Smith and me for bringing it up in such a way. It is known that you and _Señorita_ Hale had come to an understanding before she was obliged to leave Mexico last year. _Señor _Smith and _Señor _Jones therefore take the liberty of hoping that they can entrust _Señorita_ Hale to your care, and that you will see fit to take her as your wife. They would not fear for her welfare in a foreign land if they could leave her in the care of her husband.

“If you agree, _Señor _Smith and I will undertake to escort _Señorita_ Hale and her esteemed father to the town of Nogales, where we hope that you will meet us. If you cannot come to Nogales, we will escort the father and daughter to Yuma and put them on the special stage for Santa Marta.”

This remarkable missive closed with the conventional Spanish phrases to be found at the end of a formal letter. It was not at all the sort of thing one would expect in a telegraph message, even in a long night letter. He calculated it had cost Heyes and Curry more than fourteen dollars American to send it.

Córdoba let go his breath in a long sigh and continued to stare at the yellow sheets. They were proposing an arranged marriage, not all that common in this modern day and age. And with the lady whom, above all others, he would wish to make his wife. Presumably they had Miss Hale’s consent to their proposal. Whether she liked the idea or not, and he suspected, from his memory of her, that she did, the urgency of getting her out of the country was obvious. He could not help but feel honored that they had turned to him to help her. With a quick glance at the map on the wall of his office, he pulled a sheet of paper to him, dipped his pen in the standish, and began to write out a reply.

*** *** ***

While waiting for the _alcalde_’s reply, it occurred to Heyes that Clementine would feel more reassured about her father travelling almost 900 miles to meet them in Tombstone if he could be accompanied at least part of the way by someone they could trust. There weren’t all that many people whom they knew in Denver who would be able or willing to undertake such a charge, but after a moment, he recalled their friend Georgette Sinclair. He would have to pay her expenses, but unless she had other commitments she could not break, she would very probably jump at the chance to make the trip. He wrote out a message and sent it.

Miss Sinclair’s return message, arriving with commendable rapidity, informed him that she had, coincidentally, been in the process of planning a trip to Tombstone, to take up a possible position as a _chanteuse_ at the Bird Cage Theatre in the same town. She would, provided Mr. Smith would cover her expenses, be more than happy to accompany Mr. Hale by train to Albuquerque and thence by stage to Tombstone.

Before Heyes left the telegraph office, the long message from Mexico arrived. He did no more than glance at it to verify that Córdoba had consented to meet them—he didn’t read Spanish, but recognized the word Nogales—and then returned quickly to the hotel.

After the five of them had taken a light lunch in the hotel dining room, they went back up to the room Miss Wellington and Miss Hale shared, eager to hear the contents of the telegraphs Heyes had in his pocket. 

“First there’s this one,” said Heyes, opening Georgette Sinclair’s message. “Our friend Georgette Sinclair, who lives in Denver, tells me that—” he bent his head to read from the form “—COINCIDENTALLY I AM ON THE POINT OF DEPARTING FOR TOMBSTONE MYSELF HAVING BEEN OFFERED AUDITION AT BIRD CAGE THEATRE STOP DELIGHTED TO ACCOMPANY MR HALE FROM DENVER TO MEET HIS DAUGHTER STOP.” Heyes looked up. “Sounds good to me. I wired her to ask if she could help out. And I guess I’d have to agree with what you’re about to say, Kid. This is too unbelievable to be a coincidence. Looks like God took a hand in it.”

His partner, who had made no comment at all, smiled but said nothing.

“Now all we have to do is have you wire your father, Clem, explaining what you want him to do. We’ll wire the money for his train ticket to Albuquerque and the stage ticket from there to Tombstone. It should take them three and a half days to get there, and it’ll take us four, so it won’t hurt if he waits a day to leave, or needs to get some help packing or anything like that.”

Clementine nodded. “I’ll write out the message this afternoon and we can go over to send it before supper. What’s the other telegraph?”

“As if you didn’t know it’s from Mexico.” Heyes spread out the message with an impressive flourish. “I saw the word Nogales here, and he wouldn’t have sent such a long telegraph if all he had to say was ‘no,’ so I presume he’s agreeing. But you’ll have to read it, Paula. In fact, it’s addressed to you.” He passed the telegraph to his fiancée.

“Or Chad could—he’s fluent in Spanish,” she said, taking the paper. “Let’s see. You’re right, Heyes, he says he will be delighted to meet us and Miss Hale in Nogales. He leaves tomorrow afternoon, taking the ferry across the Sea of Cortez and traveling north from there by rail. He plans to escort Miss Hale and her father back to Santa Marta by the same route, trusting that, by the time they arrive or soon afterwards, the necessary dispensation from the bishop will await him.” She looked up. “He’ll be there before we shall. I’d no idea there was a railroad.” 

“Dispensation?”

“The bishop?” Kid and Heyes spoke together.

“He probably has to get permission from his bishop to marry a Protestant,” drawled Chad. “I take it that’s his way of letting you know he’s ready to go ahead with the marriage.”

“The bishop has to issue a document to the Catholic partner, for—I think it’s called ‘disparity of cult’, confirmed Paula. “From what I understand, it can take some time to obtain such a thing. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“But I’ve been thinking about it all day,” said Clementine, speaking up suddenly and surprising everyone. She had been rather silent ever since the plans for her future had been made. “In fact, I thought about it earlier, while we were down in Santa Marta, after I realized what Ramón and I meant to each other. If he wants to marry me, then I’ll have to become Catholic. I don’t see any way around that. And I’m ready to tell him so as soon as I see him.”

Heyes shot a quick glance at his cousin. In some ways, that was worse than what Kid had done when he had gotten baptized in a river in public—at least, it seemed so to Heyes. _Clem must really love that man. Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?_

“Well, if we’re leaving on the next stage going that way, I’ve got some things to do,” said Kid. “I’ll leave you ladies to your packing. Chad, I need to talk to you.”

Cooper nodded and unfolded himself from his perch on the back of the sofa near the balcony door. “I’ll come. Heyes, you think you’ll be all right here?”

“Yeah. I can keep an eye on Clem from the other room while I pack up my own gear. And I’ve got to look at stagecoach and railroad timetables to be sure we make the best use of our time.”

The door closed behind Curry and the Ranger.

“Heyes,” Clementine protested, “there’s no need for you and Miss Wellington to keep such a close watch on me. I’m not going to do anything you don’t like, or write any more letters, or try to leave. I want to get to Nogales to see Ramón as much as you want to take me there.”

The outlaw’s expression hardened. “Clem, that sounds real good, and I’d like to believe you. But since you sent that letter to Miss O’More, I don’t think I can trust you out of my sight—or Paula’s, if you’re changing your clothes or something. If you found something else to do, as bad as what you’ve already done, Kid’d probably shoot me. And I don’t want to know what he’d think about doin’ to you.” She started to protest again, but he shook his head. “Sorry, Clem. Just can’t risk it.”

Paula said gently, “Heyes, leave her with me for a while, will you? You can lock the door to the balcony and the door to the passageway—in fact, I’d rather you would.” She met his eyes for a long moment. 

Heyes nodded and went to lock the doors as she asked, bringing her the key to the main door and himself keeping the key to the balcony. Then he went into the adjacent room, leaving the door slightly ajar in case she called to him.

* * *

[1] _q.v._ the second-season Laredo episode “The Land Slickers”, where Reese Bennett accepts a reward and is cheated out of the money in a crooked land deal.

[2] <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_of_California>


	8. The Road to Tombstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combining their new job for Pat McCreedy with the urgent need to get Miss Hale out of the country, Heyes and Curry head for Tombstone, Arizona.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casting:  
Pete Duel as Hannibal Heyes  
Ben Murphy as Kid Curry  
Sally Field as Clementine Hale  
Don Porter as Clementine’s father (Mr. Porter played Gidget’s father in Gidget)  
Michele Lee as Georgette Sinclair  
Alejandro Rey as Ramón Córdoba  
Gilbert Roland as Don Domingo de Montoya  
Henry Darrow as Manolito de Montoya  
Linda Cristal as Victoria de Montoya y Cannon  
Jessica Stroup as Paula Wellington

**Friday, October 14th, 1881**

The stagecoach was being drawn fairly smoothly along a road that ran through the wide valley of the Rio Grande. Just here, the river formed part of the boundary between the state of Texas and the territory of New Mexico. Finding that a stage going the way they wanted was leaving Oneida early on the previous evening, Heyes had gathered his party together, completed the final tasks waiting to be done, such as wiring Mr. Hale the money for his trip, and had managed to get his partner, his betrothed, and Miss Hale all on board the stage by the scheduled departure time of 7:00 p.m. As the four of them were travelling together, this had obviated the need for Paula and himself to lose a lot of sleep keeping an eye on Clementine. The stage was comfortable as such things went, and everybody had managed to snatch a few hours of sleep. The women had even been able to take turns stretching out on the seat, since no other passengers had boarded. 

Heyes went over what they had accomplished in his mind, making sure that nothing had been forgotten. They had left their horses and the pack mule with the livery stable in Oneida, paying for a fortnight's care for them in advance. Kid had assured Chad Cooper that he would return from Tombstone as soon as they’d done what McCreedy wanted them to do, to help Chad finish up the land fraud case they had all been working on since the beginning of October. Heyes and his lady would also return to Oneida as soon as they finished escorting Miss Hale and her father to Nogales and seeing her safely into the arms of Ramón Córdoba. It was about 740 miles from Oneida to Tombstone, by the route they were taking. Four days, and then there was the further day’s travel to Nogales, plus the five days return time. And that did not take into account, he reminded himself, whatever time they could expect to spend in Tombstone, chasing down this fellow Sam Bacon for McCreedy and somehow seeing to it that he was returned to El Paso to be a witness in the murder investigation. Maybe another couple of days. Heyes estimated they would be back by October 26th or 27th at the latest. 

Clementine woke up and immediately moved to one side so that Paula could share her seat, facing forward. Smiling at the two outlaws, Paula said, “Now’s a chance for the two of you to get some sleep. We shall do well enough for a while. You’d better take the opportunity while you can, especially Kid. I don’t think he rested very well last night.”

“He’s been doin’ that right along,” said Heyes dryly, turning his head slightly to observe his partner, who was asleep with his head on Heyes’s shoulder. “But if you’re sure you’ll be all right, dear heart, that sounds like a good idea.” At her nod, he promptly braced the blanket they had brought with them between his head and the side curtains, and was asleep in a moment. Soon the snores of both men mingled with the soothing sound of the horses’ hooves and the creak of the leather springs as the coach sped on its way.

Pulling a half-finished sock from her knitting bag, Paula started to work on it, with a quick glance at Miss Hale. “I’ve the second sock with me if you care to work on it,” she offered.

“Oh, thank you, but I don’t knit well enough to do that and not have it show, I’m afraid.” Clementine turned her head, settling herself more comfortably with her back against the corner. “I wanted to ask you some questions. About you and Heyes, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. I can’t promise to answer them all—it depends on what you want to know.”

“There are so many things. How long did you say you’d known him?”

“A little over a year.”

“And Miss O’More? How long have she and Kid …?”

“It would be just a couple of months longer. The fellows were in Telluride in September of ’eighty, two months before they met us.” She smiled. “Later, Miss O’More was able to help them out of serious trouble. I suppose you could say she saved Kid’s life, or she helped Heyes to do so.” Remembering that she did not have Kid’s consent to tell that story, Paula fell silent abruptly, bending her head over the sock.

Clementine looked as though she would have liked to probe further, but decided against it. “A year is quite a while, but I guess I still want to ask you if you have any idea what you’re getting into. When I first met you, I thought you didn’t, but now I understand you were playing a part. Now I’m even more curious. _I_ wouldn’t marry Hannibal Heyes, even if I didn’t know Ramón.”

“That’s good,” replied Paula with a slight edge to her voice, “since I think he feels the same way about you.” She glanced quickly across to be sure that Heyes was still asleep. “Yes, I’m aware of what I’m facing, as is Lillian. They’re wanted by the law, with large rewards, payable dead or alive, on their heads. They may not live to get the amnesty they’re hoping for. On the other hand, they’ve built up a good record as law-abiding citizens, which is backed by appropriate documentary proof, and they have at least one judge, two attorneys, and five law officers on their side.” Her gaze lingered on Heyes’s face for a moment, then returned to Miss Hale. “God seems to be concerned for their welfare as well. There have been several quite striking answers to prayer. And, yes, on another note, I’m aware he might prove very difficult to live with, but I’m prepared for that, I believe.”

Her mention of God reminded Clementine of the other question she wanted to ask. Ever since she had pulled a small New Testament out of Kid’s pocket along with the letter she had hoped to peruse, she had been wondering about it. Was it part of his Thaddeus Jones cover story? It looked well worn, as though someone had handled it frequently, but if the pair had devised a cover, they wouldn’t let it fail through overlooking such things as that. Heyes, especially, would take extraordinary care in getting the details of an impersonation correct—she’d seen him do it. But since then—most recently that very morning, when they had boarded the stage again after snatching a quick breakfast while the horses were changed, she had seen Kid take the little volume out and spend some time reading in it before restoring it to his pocket. She drew a quick breath. “Miss Wellington?”

Paula looked up from her knitting, eyebrows raised.

“There’s something I don’t understand. Has Kid got religion or something? I feel silly asking that question, but there’s something different about him. And that Bible in his pocket—I thought it might be part of the impersonation they were doing, but that doesn’t seem right. It’s like—well, it’s like he’s a stranger. Somebody I don’t even know. I know he’s engaged to be married, but it’s more than that.”

Choosing her words carefully, Paula told her about Jedidiah Curry’s conversion the previous summer, keeping the details of the story to a bare minimum—how he had surprised them all one Sunday by asking the minister to include him among the baptisms being performed that afternoon in the San Miguel River. The New Testament Clementine had noticed had been given to him by a friend in Denver, back in the spring. “And you’re quite right, Miss Hale. He’s become rather different in some ways. Heyes told me Kid went out of his way to assure him that he was still the same man, after Heyes accused him of turning into a stranger. You’d know more about this than I would, perhaps—they must have been taught about the things of God by their parents, and in the Shaker community where they spent some time, and even by the authorities at the Home for Waywards in Valparaiso. So for Kid, it wasn’t really a complete change—more of a return to what he had been taught as a child.”

She stopped, her attention caught by Heyes shifting his position across from her. She turned her head and smiled at him, winning an answering smile that warmed his dark eyes.

Clementine had also marked Heyes’s expression of discomfort. She realized that although Kid might have turned back to the God he had once known, Heyes had not. Her eyes going to the other woman’s face, she opened her mouth to ask another question.

Paula, however, had not failed to notice that underneath the smile, Heyes was uneasy. To spare him, she changed the subject abruptly. “And I have a question as well, Miss Hale. You asked if I knew what I was getting into. What about you? You are not all that well acquainted with _Señor_ Córdoba, and yet here you are prepared to marry him and spend the rest of your life with him in a foreign country where you are unacquainted with the language.” As she had hoped, the blunt question distracted Clementine from whatever she had intended to say. Heyes stretched his legs as best he could in the confined space, closed his eyes, and appeared to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, snores confirmed that he had done so.

Becoming animated as she talked about her meeting with the handsome Mexican, Clementine began to tell her what had happened when she had accompanied Heyes and Curry to Santa Marta, posing as Mrs. Thaddeus Jones as a part of the cover story Heyes had devised. She was still talking when the stage slowed, turned a corner, and drew up in front of a low adobe and log building. The driver called down to them, “Portales, folks. We stop here long enough for you to get a good meal. Departing at half-past one.”

Heyes looked up at the driver as they climbed down from the stage. “Lunch sounds good. Where would you recommend, or is there a choice?”

The driver pointed to a café directly across the wide street. “Mrs. McDuff runs the café over there. She’s used to feeding the stagecoach passengers, and it’s good American home cooking.”

**Las Cruces, New Mexico, Sunday, October 16th**

The stagecoaches did not run on Sundays, but Heyes was glad of the opportunity to spend the day in Las Cruces, get some rest for the ladies, his partner, and himself, and wash the dust out of his throat. He knew Paula would try to find a church service she could attend, and Kid would probably go with her. He supposed he had better plan on doing the same and insisting that Clementine accompany them whether she liked it or not. He sighed. A nice, peaceful Sunday morning for all concerned.

Returning to the hotel after church, Heyes walked into the lobby with Miss Wellington on his arm while Kid held the door open for them and Miss Hale. Looking across to the front desk, he stared in surprise. “George!”

The tall, buxom young woman standing in front of the desk turned around quickly. Seeing the two outlaws, her face lit up with a welcoming smile. 

Just then a shriek from behind him almost caused Heyes to reach for his gun. “Papa!” Clementine broke into a run, crossing the room and flinging herself into the arms of a gray-haired man who had just come down the stairs. Looking more closely, Heyes recognized Mr. Hale. He hadn’t seen Clementine’s father in over eight years, and the older man had aged visibly. _Not surprising after what he’s been through._ Heyes stepped forward to greet Miss Sinclair, introducing her to his fiancée, then turning to allow Clementine to introduce Miss Wellington to her father. 

Mr. Hale

“If you two haven’t eaten, we were just going to look for some lunch,” Kid suggested. The two parties merged as they entered the hotel dining room. 

Miss Sinclair and Mr. Hale had arrived by stage from Albuquerque midway through the morning. It turned out that they were booked on the stage for Tombstone and Tucson departing that evening at 9:00 p.m., the same stage that Heyes had reserved seats on for his party. Finally, Heyes thought, he could relax his vigilance where Clementine was concerned. She would not leave her father. Maybe they all had a chance of arriving in Tombstone without having to guard against any untoward occurrences.

At the stage depot that night, they discovered that they were the only passengers. The six of them would be able to travel with no strangers intruding into their conversation, and Mr. Hale would not be obliged to remember that his daughter’s long-time friends were now calling themselves Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. The problem of how and where to sleep was dealt with as well as could be expected by letting the ladies have the forward-facing seat while the gentlemen took the rear-facing one. This was not one of the larger Concord stages which could seat nine passengers—there was only a small pull-down table to occupy the center space, giving everyone room to stretch their legs or rest their heads on their arms in reasonable comfort.

*** *** ***

As soon as they had arrived in Tombstone and taken rooms at the hotel, Heyes wired Ramón Córdoba in care of the Nogales hotel that catered to railway passengers, letting him know that Miss Hale and her father were safe in Tombstone, and adding that there would be a delay of a few days while he and Mr. Jones discharged the other business which had brought them to the bustling mining town. Then he and Kid began to search the town for Sam Bacon, the man they had come to find, while Miss Sinclair pursued the audition for the position of _chanteuse_ that had been promised to her by the management of the Bird Cage Theatre.

**Nogales, Sonora, Mexico, Tuesday, October 18th**

Ramón Córdoba rode back into town, mounted on the spirited horse he had hired for his trip out to _Rancho_ Montoya. Arriving in Nogales a day and a half earlier, he had discovered that the _rancho_ belonging to the family of his school friend Manolo de Montoya was just south of the town. He remembered receiving a letter some two months earlier from Manolito, as he had always been called by his friends, conveying the news that his father had died. Córdoba thought it best to ride out and pay his respects to the family. He wondered who now owned the _rancho_. Manolito was the heir, but Córdoba knew there had been dissension between him and _Don_ Sebastian over what the old _hidalgo_ saw as his son’s irresponsibility. Besides, wasn’t Manolito now living on the _rancho_ of his sister’s husband, a hundred miles north in Arizona?

The visit to _Rancho_ Montoya had seen all these questions resolved, though the answers had proven to be rather surprising. Domingo de Montoya, _Don_ Sebastian’s younger brother, had inherited the _rancho_, conducting himself in such a way as to win the respect of the surrounding landowners and the loyalty of his tenants.[1] _Don_ Domingo carried on the tradition of using his private forces to enforce the peace in the area, the minimal law enforcement available in Nogales being entirely unequal to the task. The new _ranchero_ was, in fact, a model landowner. He had been interested to hear that his nephew’s friend was the _alcalde_ of the prosperous resort town of Santa Marta, and even more intrigued at Córdoba’s announcement that he was betrothed to an American young woman who was, with her widowed father, travelling south and west to meet him. _Don_ Domingo urged the younger man to bring his prospective bride to the _Rancho_ Montoya for rest and refreshment before taking the train south. He proposed that the very natural fears of _Señor_ Hale might be allayed if they were to visit friends on their way south—in fact, Montoya suggested, Córdoba and his lady could be married at the _Rancho_ Montoya and proceed on their way south as man and wife, thus making the long journey more proper for a lady unaccompanied by a personal maid. 

Manolito and Domingo de Montoya

Córdoba thought it best to refrain from telling his host that her friends, a pair of wanted outlaws, were taking steps to get Miss Hale out of the country before she could be arrested for extortion and conspiracy to commit highway robbery. He agreed that the suggestion had merit, and promised to broach the matter with _Señor_ Hale and his daughter.

His attention was caught, upon coming into the hotel, by the desk clerk, who held out a telegraph envelope. Ripping it open, Córdoba read Heyes’s note saying they were in Tombstone and would probably be there for several days before they could bring Miss Hale to Nogales. Quickly making a decision, he wrote a message to be carried out to _Rancho_ Montoya and sent another to the stage depot while he himself returned to his room and swiftly packed up his clothing. One further telegraph to the office of the Diocese of Sonora informed the staff there that he was to be found at the _Rancho_ Montoya just south of Nogales, and hoped to proceed with the wedding ceremony to his American Protestant fiancée at that location as soon as the necessary paperwork arrived. He asked them to forward the dispensation documents to _Rancho_ Montoya as soon as possible, amused at the knowledge that this request would probably ensure the diocesan authorities giving the matter their most urgent attention. Domingo de Montoya was a known power in Sonora, and his family had always been generous to the Church. In no time at all, it seemed, the _alcalde_ was boarding the next stage for Tucson and Tombstone.

*** *** ***

In Tombstone, Miss Wellington and Miss Hale found themselves thrown a great deal into one another’s company, together with Miss Hale’s father, since Heyes, Curry, and Georgette Sinclair were all thoroughly occupied with their own concerns. They spent some time together, keeping their interactions on a courteous footing for Mr. Hale’s sake. The women tacitly agreed that he should never be told what Clementine had tried to do; indeed, what she had done to her old friends Heyes and Curry, back in Oneida. The six travellers continued to dine together, and Heyes never omitted to pay his betrothed a little extra attention amongst the other matters engaging his time, escorting her to meals and to her room and wishing her a good night.

When Georgette’s clothing was stolen from her hotel room, Miss Wellington was able to make herself useful in a quiet way by keeping a watch on the door of the room while Georgette went to see Marshal Earp[2], taking the protesting outlaws with her. Thus she saw when one of the marshal’s deputies quietly returned the clothing and left the hotel before Georgette’s return with the marshal. She passed this information on to Heyes, enabling him to make arrangements to follow the deputy in question when he rode out of town the following day.

**Tombstone, Arizona, Wednesday, October 19th**

While Heyes, Kid, and Georgette were out following up the clue provided by the deputy’s visit to an isolated farmhouse outside of town, Miss Wellington and Miss Hale were sitting in the lobby of the hotel while Mr. Hale rested in his room. Miss Wellington, as usual, was knitting.

“Miss Wellington, isn’t it obvious to you that Miss Sinclair has been being rather free with your fiancé? We saw her going to their room late last night, and before the door closed, she flung herself into his arms.”

“Yes, I saw that.” Miss Wellington wondered if Clementine was trying to make mischief on purpose, or whether she simply couldn’t help herself. “She was frightened. One can’t blame her. Naturally one longs for the comfort of a man’s strong arms at such a time.”

“But … aren’t you jealous?” Clementine persisted.

“Not in the least. I saw the look on his face when she cast herself on his chest. More aggravated than amorous, I should have said. In any case, his manner towards her is not that of a lover, not even a former lover. Kid told me that they’ve known Miss Sinclair for several years, though they were never such good friends with her as they once were with you. Here in Tombstone, they have been assisting her to solve this matter of the marshal’s deputy making threats which he then denies when questioned, and she has been assisting them to devise some way of getting the witness they were sent to find back across the border into Texas where he can be served with a subpœna. It seemed to me that it would be better for me to stay out of the way, whilst keeping you and your father company.”

“Yes, of course, but …” Clementine broke off as a slender man of medium height, with wavy black hair and a heavy black moustache, dressed like a Mexican gentleman, entered the hotel lobby and approached the front desk. “Ramón!” she breathed. “He’s here!”

They could hear the newcomer ask the desk clerk, “Have you a Miss Clementine Hale staying here?” The clerk’s reply was inaudible, but the wave of his hand as he indicated the two ladies sitting by the window was unmistakable. The Mexican’s face lit up as he turned and saw them. Miss Wellington noted, with approval, that he had no eyes for anyone except her companion. He crossed the lobby in three strides and was beside them in a moment, removing his _sombrero_ and bowing.

Stammering, Clementine greeted him shyly and turned to present him to her companion. “Miss Wellington, may I present _Señor_ Córdoba? Ramón, this is Miss Wellington, who is going to marry, uh, Joshua Smith.”

Córdoba bowed again. “Then you are the lady who telegraphed to me. _La prometida_ of …”

“Of Hannibal Heyes. _Sí_, that is correct. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, _Señor_.”

A wide smile came. “Then you are aware of Mr. Smith’s true name and former occupation? I was a trifle concerned for you, though I understand you could not mention the name in the telegraph.”

“Yes, I know a good deal about him,” responded Miss Wellington. “We’ve been acquainted for over a year now. I thank you for your concern, _Señor_.” She rose, motioning to the seat she had vacated. “Please. Take my seat. I shall go upstairs and let Mr. Hale know you’ve arrived, as I know he will wish to meet you.” At Córdoba’s hesitation, she added, “One of us will return directly, _Señor_. But I think, here in a public hotel lobby, you will not need a chaperone. Miss Hale has told us that you are a gentleman of honour.” 

She curtsied slightly and Córdoba bowed again, remaining standing until she had reached the foot of the stairs. In the upper passageway, she knocked on Mr. Hale’s door. When he called to her to enter, she opened the door and went in, leaving the door ajar behind her. “Mr. Hale, I’m sorry to disturb you. I hope you weren’t trying to sleep.”

“Oh, no. I was just reading.” He frowned. “I thought you didn’t wish to leave Clementine alone.”

“She’s not alone. That’s what I came to tell you. _Señor_ Córdoba has arrived on the stage from Nogales. He’s with her now, in the lobby. He wishes to meet you, of course. May I take you down to them?”

After a long life full of various vicissitudes, Mr. Hale still could not quite get accustomed to being treated with respectful deference by a lady only a few years older than his own daughter. This one would make Hannibal Heyes a good wife when the time came. “I can find them, my dear. You should go and find your own betrothed.”

“I shall do that, but our ways lie together as far as the lobby.” She took his proffered arm and they slowly descended the stairs.

*** *** ***

Returning from the marshal’s office, where they had put Earp in possession of enough information to allow him to make an arrest of his crooked deputy, together with the couple that Georgette had identified as having been involved in an express office robbery in Colorado[3], Heyes saw Paula coming toward them along the boardwalk. He frowned and hurried forward. “I thought you were with Clem, sweetheart.”

“I was. But you’ll never guess who’s here!” She smiled at him mischievously as she turned to fall into step beside him, while Kid and Georgette dropped back.

Heyes was more sensitive to the implications of that kind of question now that he was betrothed. He thought of what he would do if someone had wired to tell him of Paula’s whereabouts. “Córdoba? The _alcalde_? I wired to tell him we were here. He must have set out as soon as he got the telegraph.”

“Exactly.” Paula smiled up at him.

Kid whistled softly. “He must have been on the stage for two days.”

“I think it’s only about ten hours,” said Heyes. “It’s a little over seventy miles.” He led the way to the café that they had been honoring with their patronage when they weren’t dining in the hotel. “George, would you like to come over to the hotel and meet the man?”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting him, but I expect Miss Hale would prefer me to keep out of the way. I’m the only one of us all who isn’t spoken for. And I’m not really hungry, Heyes. I’ve got to get ready for tonight, if you want me to convince Sam to go back to Colorado with me.”

“Yeah, but we still need to work out a few details about that,” said Heyes. “Come have some coffee or tea with us and we’ll talk about it. Kid had an idea about how we can get him across the New Mexico border into Texas.” He seated Paula at a table in the corner while Kid seated Georgette. “Tell her, Kid.” When the waiter approached, Heyes ordered tea for the ladies and coffee for himself and Kid, together with some pastries, cold meat, and buttered toast.

“It’s somethin’ I noticed on our way down here from Oneida. The stage you’d normally take back to Denver is the one that goes through to El Paso. You change stages to go north at Las Cruces. But if you stay on the El Paso stage …” He put up his hand to stop Georgette from interrupting. “Yeah, I know. Sam won’t get on a stage going to Texas. But just listen a minute.”

She nodded. “Go on, then.”

“There’s a stage stop northwest of El Paso, still in New Mexico, but pretty close to the border. Passengers can go north from there instead of going south to El Paso. Stages run both ways. It’s the one we came in on. It runs up the valley of the Rio Grande and intersects with a rail line that’ll take you to Colorado. The point is, the road runs through Texas just after it leaves the stage stop. At least, the government of Texas thinks it’s part of Texas. I guess the government of the territory of New Mexico thinks it’s part of New Mexico. The stage driver told us that when we came through there on the way down. You just have to be sure that you buy a stage ticket that takes you that way. I’ll leave half a day before you do, take the stage to El Paso, and tell McCreedy when you’ll be coming through there. He’ll have a posse meet your stage to take Sam off. I’ll ride along, and they can use my horse to take Sam back with ’em while I join you on the stage. That’s the one I have to take to get back to Oneida.”

“Kid, that’s brilliant!” Both ladies gazed at him in admiration. 

Chuckling, Heyes explained. “We looked at a map together to figure out what the stage driver was talking about, and all of a sudden Kid pointed to the disputed border line and said he had an idea.”

Miss Sinclair nodded decisively. “I think it’ll work. You’ll have to go over the stage schedule with me. But what about you two?” She looked at Heyes and Miss Wellington.

“We need to stay with Clem and her father until we’re sure they’ve left the country, or they’re going to leave,” said Heyes. “I promised Cooper I’d do that. With Córdoba here, we may not have to go to Nogales with them, but then again, he might want Paula to chaperone Clem. He’d think it wouldn’t be proper for her to travel all that way without another woman along. He struck me as pretty strait-laced—and he was real careful of her when we were there, both before and after he found out she wasn’t really married to Kid.”

In the early evening, just after supper, which they had enjoyed at four tables in the hotel dining room—the two betrothed couples sitting alone at small tables, and Georgette dining alone as a part of Heyes’s plan to ensure that Sam Bacon didn’t know she had any connection with the men hunting him—Georgette came to the outlaws’ room to talk over the stagecoach arrangements. A pounding on the door heralded the arrival of two of the marshal’s deputies, who requested the presence of Smith and Jones at the marshal’s office immediately. Worried, Georgette withdrew to the room across the corridor that Miss Wellington and Miss Hale shared, and told them of the disturbing visitors.

“I hope we shan’t be faced with the necessity of trying to break them out of jail or anything of that nature,” said Paula, equally worried. “There’s something going on in this town under the surface, and Marshal Earp seems to be at the center of it. It’s like a powder keg.[4] I shouldn’t like to see them having to spend any longer here than they must.”

Her fears were allayed, some twenty-five minutes later, by the return of Heyes and Curry, free and unharmed. The two outlaws saw her standing in the open doorway of her room and came directly up. Quickly, Paula stepped back, inviting them into the room where Clementine and Georgette still were.

Miss Sinclair looked up, her face brightening. “You’re safe! What did Marshal Earp want? And then I’ve got to get ready for tonight’s performance.”

“Well,” said Heyes, dropping into a chair with a sigh and running his fingers through his long dark hair as he removed his hat, “he knows who we are. But he offered us a deal. He thanked us for helping to nab those three crooks, and then he told us how close he was with Doc Holliday. Seems they’ve been good friends for a long time, as close as Kid and me. I wish I’d known that earlier—I’d have been more careful about winning all that money from Doc at poker the last few nights. No sense attractin’ attention we don’t need.”

“He told us Doc was dying.” Kid perched on the window sill, setting his hat down beside him. “Said he figured Doc had a year to live at the most. So Earp wants to be sure that Doc’s reputation for poker stays good here in Tombstone. He wants Heyes to play one more game tonight, and lose that twenty thousand dollars back to Doc. Then we can leave town, and he won’t stop us.”

“Yeah. Simple as that.” Heyes touched Paula’s hand as she came over to stand beside his chair. “So that’s what I’m gonna do.” He looked up at his betrothed. “I don’t know how long the game’ll take. You’d better not plan on waitin’ up to say good-night. It’ll probably be after midnight when we come back to the room.”

“Very well. I know I needn’t worry about whether the game will go the way you want it to.” She smiled at him. “I think it’s a good thing to do, Heyes, whether Marshal Earp is coercing you to do so or not. The man is dying, and this will make things easier on him as long as he stays here, however long he has left to live.”

“So it’s a form of charity? I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he admitted. “Suppose you’re right. George, you know what stagecoach to take, you and Sam. Kid will leave for El Paso early tomorrow, and you’ll leave the following day. All you need to do is let us know if there’s a hitch in getting Sam to go with you.”

She nodded briskly, and Heyes got up to open the door for her. “Good night.”

In the morning, Heyes, Kid, and Córdoba met the ladies, except for Miss Sinclair, who was keeping carefully away from them, to escort them down to breakfast. Kid kept Mr. Hale company, seeing that the _alcalde_ had offered his arm to Clementine.

Over the meal, which they took together at the same table, Kid said quietly, “Clem, I’ll be leaving for El Paso in an hour. I won’t see you again. There’s something I wanted you to have.” He drew from his pocket the tiny New Testament he had purchased the day before, not wishing to part with the one Jesse Jordan had given him six months earlier. “This changed my life last spring—it's not too late to let it change yours. Consider it a wedding present.” He pressed the little book into her hand, stood up from the table, touched his hat to both ladies, shook hands with Córdoba and Mr. Hale and left the dining room.

*** *** ***

Three days later, Hannibal Heyes and his betrothed, together with Ramón Córdoba, his betrothed, and her father, found themselves honored guests at the _Rancho_ Montoya south of Nogales. Their host, _Don_ Domingo, had received the special letter from the diocese, with the required dispensation for Ramón to marry a Protestant. He had also sent for his niece, Victoria de Montoya _y_ Cannon, so that Miss Hale would have another woman to support her through the ceremony. Victoria had arrived escorted only by her brother, her husband John Cannon having declined to make one of the party with the reminder that he was in the midst of the fall round-up. 

Victoria and _Don_ Domingo

Manolito explained that he himself had had trouble making the Cannons understand how important it was that he should escort his sister to Mexico just at this time, since every man was needed to carry on the round-up. His brother-in-law had reluctantly let him go, asking him to be the bearer to his uncle of a letter and some documents regarding the sale of cattle.

Heyes withdrew with Paula to one side of the big salon, where all of the others were speaking rather self-consciously in English in deference to their American guests. He caught Paula’s eye and shuddered dramatically. “It’s all that hard _work_! And they’re talking like they enjoy it. Did I mention earlier how much I hate working with cattle?”

“Yes, you did. I hope that doesn’t apply to horses?”

“No, horses are different. They’re a lot smarter, for one thing.” Heyes favored her with his engaging smile. “Horses smell better, too, and they’re good company. I’ve never had much success talkin’ to a cow. Well, there was one—in Mexico, as a matter of fact. It was a bull. He didn’t seem to have any trouble understandin’ what I told him, but I still wouldn’t call him good company.”

She giggled. “No, I don’t suppose they are, though I’ve milked Highland cattle which were very friendly.”

“Highland cattle?”

“Yes. They’re not very big. They look rather like a cross between a Texas longhorn and one of those elegant, fluffy, flame-red Irish hunting dogs.”

Heyes tried and failed to picture an animal of this description. “A fluffy red cow. With long horns.”

“Yes, that’s right. Maybe someday you’ll see one, if we ever get to visit Scotland. They give very rich milk. I’ve sometimes wished we had one or two at the ranch.” She watched Clementine, sparkling with enjoyment as she chatted with her betrothed and his Mexican friends. “Heyes, this was a good idea of Kid’s. I think it will work out well for her. She really loves him, and she seems to be willing to fit in with these people and their country.”

“Yeah.” Heyes had also been watching. “And we’ll never have to worry about her again. Córdoba will look after her.”

* * *

[1] q.v. _The High Chaparral_ fourth-season episode “The New Lion of Sonora.”

[2] Virgil Earp was was a U.S. Marshal in Tombstone at this particular date, but had appointed his brother Wyatt as the city marshal, as the second-season episode “Which Way to the O.K. Corral?” correctly states.

[3] q.v. the third-season episode “Which Way to the O.K. Corral?”

[4] The gunfight at the O.K. Corral took place on October 26th, 1881, just one week after this scene.


	9. An Unexpected Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way back up to the Texas Panhandle from Tombstone, Paula Wellington finds herself and her betrothed in a difficult situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very last part of this chapter was previously published as a short story in the 2018 ASJ Advent Calendar collection.

**Northeast of Portales, New Mexico, Thursday, October 27th**

Miss Wellington and Hannibal Heyes, her betrothed, had remained in Mexico long enough to see Clementine Hale married, in a proper Catholic ceremony, to the man she had been attracted to since she had first seen him over a year previously. The bride and groom were in good spirits, as was the father of the bride, and all seemed to be in order for them to continue their journey to Santa Marta, where they would settle down together. The couple had decided that Clementine’s father would live with them, Ramón Córdoba having declared that there was plenty of room in his house, and that he could not endure the thought of his father-in-law living alone in a strange town and a strange country, surrounded by people whose language he did not know.

Before leaving, Heyes had gone quietly aside with the newly married man and had shown him the warrants Chad Cooper had given him: one for the arrest of Clementine Hale on a charge of extortion, and another to allow the Texas Rangers to search her bank deposit box for evidence of stolen property. To these documents, the Ranger had appended a hand-written note saying that, based on evidence in his possession, another warrant could be sworn out against her on a charge of conspiracy to rob a Wells Fargo messenger and stage, and a fourth one could be obtained for a pending charge of extortion in Colorado. 

Briefly, Heyes had explained the circumstances, then handed over the warrants. “Ranger Cooper told me you should keep these. As long as she doesn’t enter Texas or Colorado again, he has no interest in seeing her arrested. And the attorney in Colorado who is in possession of the evidence for extortion in that state will keep matters to himself as well. He’s the duly retained counsellor for the lady who is to be married to my partner, Jed Curry. Really truly married, I mean—when the time comes, after we get our amnesty.” His eyes had searched the _alcalde_’s face. “Clem didn’t mean any harm—that is, I don’t think she thought about it like that. She was just trying to get some help for her father. I hope you’re not too shocked.”

“No, I am not shocked,” Córdoba had replied. “I know that Miss … that my wife is very loving and impulsive and often does not stop to think about her actions. She never intended to become a criminal. You need have no worries, Mr. Heyes: you, or Miss Wellington, or your friend Mr. Curry or his lady. Not for yourselves or for Clementine. She will be safe here now with me. And neither of us will ever forget what you and your friend have done for us. Perhaps, when you are settled, you could write to us and let us know how you go on. My wife would like that, I think.”

His mind coming back out of the recent past, Heyes firmly pushed away the thoughts of Clementine Hale _y_ Córdoba and all the trouble she had caused them, and rested his eyes on his own lady, sitting across from him. They were alone in the coach, chaperoned for many miles of the long journey back to Oneida only by the stage driver, and the guard, if there happened to be one. The route was not heavily travelled.

“What are you thinking about, dearest?” Paula smiled back at him.

“Oh, just about Clem and Córdoba. I gave him those warrants, and Chad’s note. He promised to see to everything. But we don’t have to talk about them. It’s just occurred to me that I never gave you any kind of explanation about our friendship with George—ah, Miss Sinclair. I don’t know what you were thinking …”

“No, but Kid did,” she interrupted. “He said the two of you’d been friends with her for quite a while, off and on, though not as close as you were with Miss Hale.”

“You’re not worried?”

“That she kept flinging herself into your arms? No, not especially. You were so very obviously not impressed with that.”

“Good.” Heyes trailed off. Suddenly, it seemed an unbearable effort to talk, even to Paula. He was so tired. He shouldn’t be—three days in a stagecoach, much of that time alone with his betrothed, so that they could talk privately, had been enjoyable, certainly not tiring.

Paula frowned. She could see he was tired. Considering he was usually much more active than they had been lately, this was puzzling. Her eyes scanned his face. Was he growing pale, or was it her imagination? She stretched out her hand to touch his, in concern—and was only just in time to steady him as his eyes closed and he slumped to one side. She flung herself forward, pressing him back into his seat to keep him from slipping to the floor of the coach. 

“Heyes?” There was no answer. Quickly she felt for a pulse. It was there, though rather rapid and irregular. Then she put the back of her hand against his forehead. It was burning hot with fever. “The grippe—if it’s not something worse,” she murmured to herself. Sliding onto the seat beside the unconscious man, she got her arms around him and exerted all her strength to shift him into a better position, with his hips braced against the side of the coach and his head in her lap. 

At the speed they were travelling, she was unable to attract the driver’s attention, and in any case, there was nothing to be done, out here on the western edge of the _Llano Estacado_ that she had once wanted so much to see. The best they could hope for would be to get Heyes laid down on a bed somewhere--at the next stage station, if possible, while she got someone to telegraph a message to Kid in Oneida. If necessary, they could push on to the next town that had a hotel and wait there for Kid to come, which she knew he would as soon as he got the news. She could nurse Heyes in the meantime, though it was not the best solution. The only thing to be done now was to keep him comfortable and try to keep the fever from mounting. 

Steadying him with one hand, she searched in her knitting bag with the other, eventually drawing out a bottle of lavender water that she sometimes used for scent. A cloth moistened with it would keep his face cooler. She set the black hat on the other seat and took her handkerchief from her pocket. Drenching the cloth with a sizeable quantity of the lavender water, she began to wipe his forehead with it gently. He stirred, but did not open his eyes.

At the next stage stop, Paula topped off her bottle of lavender water with some fresh water from the well, got a few necessities from her night bag and an extra blanket from Heyes’s bedroll, and went to speak to the station master’s wife.

“Mrs. Barrett, my fiancé, Mr. Smith, was taken ill on the stage. I must find a place where he can be laid down on a bed so that I can nurse him, until a friend of ours can be sent for to assist me. Would it be possible to stay here?”

“I’m so sorry,” replied the woman. “I’d like to help, but you can see for yourself that there’s no suitable place for him here—not even a spare bunk or cot. You’ll have to stay on the stage until you reach Farwell, about twenty miles ahead.”

“Farwell?”

“Yes. It used to be just a line cabin for the XIT Ranch, but now it’s growing into a regular little town. There’s a telegraph station there, and a little hotel. They ought to be able to put you up, and you can wait for your friend there. At least they should be able to get Mr. Smith off the stage and put him into a bed of some kind.”

“Twenty miles? Well, if it must be, it must. Will you heat up some water for me, so I can fill the hot-water bottle[1] I have in my trunk? And I’d like to pay for one of those sandwiches and take it with me.”

“Of course, Miss. And I’ll make up a hot brick wrapped in flannel. You can put it under a blanket to keep him warm. Is his fever very bad?”

“It’s bad—his head is hot to the touch—but he’s not delirious or anything of that nature. I certainly appreciate your help, ma’am.”

“Of course. I only wish there were more I could do.” Mrs. Barrett hurried to see to the heating of the water and the brick.

Paula turned to find the stage driver waiting to speak to her. “Miss, I’ve been keeping an eye on Mr. Smith. He’s sleeping—no change as far as I can see. Since the two of you are my only passengers between here and Farwell, and I’m a little ahead of schedule anyway … tell you what. I can slow down some. That’ll keep him a little more comfortable, and make things easier for you.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Almost four hours later, the stagecoach drew up outside a tiny building. “Farwell Hotel, Miss. You just stay here. I’ll get some help to move him.”

A few minutes later he was back. “All’s well, Miss. This is Mr. Cutler.” He indicated the burly middle-aged man who had followed him out. “His wife is preparing two rooms next to each other, upstairs. He and I’ll carry Mr. Smith up the stairs to his room.”

“I’ll get you both registered as soon as I come back down, Miss.” The proprietor smiled at her. “My wife will be more than happy to help you as much as she’s able. At least she can look after you while you’re looking after your betrothed.”

The stage driver spoke up again as the two men eased Heyes carefully from his position on the seat and made a chair with their arms to carry him. “Miss, you write out that telegraph message to your friend, and I’ll get it sent while the horses are being changed.”

Using pen and ink which she found on the writing desk that held the hotel register, Paula wrote out a telegraph message to be sent to Thaddeus Jones at the Oneida Hotel. She supervised the disposition of their luggage, tipped the proprietor lavishly, and attempted to do the same with the driver when the two men descended the stairs. 

“No, no, Miss. You keep that,” replied the driver. “I’ll take a couple of dollars to see that the telegraph is sent, but that’s all. You’ll be all right here, Miss. The Cutlers will take good care of you both.” He walked over to where a fresh team was just being harnessed to the stage, announced their imminent departure, boarded the three new passengers waiting for the stage, and stepped into the telegraph office to send the wire before departing on the long run to the north.

Paula, who had seen Heyes made as comfortable as possible and had watched until she was sure he was asleep, had returned to her own room, and was engaged in trying to read while heating up fresh water for the hot-water bottle. About an hour after the departure of the stage, a knock on the door of her room heralded the arrival of a matronly woman who announced herself to be the owner’s wife. She had a tray in her hands with a steaming plate of food on it, beside which rested the familiar yellow envelope of a Western Union telegraph message. “Miss Wellington, you must take time to look after yourself, or you might not be awake if your Mr. Smith needs you. I looked in on him just now, and saw he was asleep, but he may get delirious during the night. You eat up this good supper now, and see if you can snatch a little sleep, while I sit with him a while.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Cutler! I _should_ like to lie down for a few moments. Please call me if he wakes and asks for me.” She stopped suddenly, remembering the story Kid had told her about Heyes talking in his delirium, using his real name and that of his partner, in front of a woman who had turned out not to be trustworthy. She resolved to get what sleep she could during the night in a chair in Heyes’s room, not wanting to take the risk that Mrs. Cutler would hear something she should not.

As soon as she was alone, she quickly opened the telegraph envelope. In the wire, Kid assured her that he would be there as quickly as he could, reminding her that was likely to be the following morning, if he could get a seat on the stage leaving Oneida that same evening. Joshua, he wrote confidently, had a sound constitution and should fare well enough in the meantime.

*** *** ***

In Oneida, Kid Curry quickly informed Chad of the new development, and told the Ranger he’d have to leave him on his own for several days while he took the stage south to Farwell and helped Paula attend to Heyes. Not only would his partner appreciate having a man present to help with certain aspects of the nursing, but Miss Wellington most urgently required a chaperon, even if no one would think the less of her for attempting to nurse her betrothed.

Cooper agreed to this without demur, and urged him not to waste any time. They discussed whether it would be quicker to try to ride, or take a wagon or buggy so that Heyes could be moved to a better location, and came to the conclusion that it would not improve matters to ride. The stage, changing horses every 15 miles, would get him there faster than he could ride, and he would be more rested.

Receiving a reply to his telegraph sent to Dr. MacKenzie in Idaho Springs as soon as he had heard from Paula, Kid went out to buy as many of the remedies MacKenzie recommended as he could. According to the description in Paula’s wire, Farwell likely had no doctor nor any general store where common herbal and homœopathic remedies could be obtained. MacKenzie had recommended _aconitum napellus_ to bring down the fever, supplemented with a tisane made from dried feverfew if it could be obtained. Curry was able to find both of these, as well as the lemons Paula had requested. By 6:30 p.m., he was on the stage, settled in for the night.

**Farwell, Texas, Friday, October 28th**

Knowing that Heyes should be checked every few hours, especially if there was a risk he could become delirious, Paula took the blankets from the bed in her room, went to his room, and made herself a nest for the night in the armchair, leaving the door into the corridor open to address the matter of propriety as best she could. Round about half-past three, having seen that he was sleeping soundly, she put more wood on the fire, curled up in the armchair with a hot-water bottle, and permitted herself to doze off, certain she would wake if Heyes moved or spoke.

The next thing she was aware of was the morning light coming in through the windows, and a gentle knock on the half-open door. Turning her head quickly, she saw the most welcome sight she could imagine—Kid Curry standing in the doorway, with traces of travel dust on his blue shirt and gray trousers. “K—Thaddeus! I wasn’t expecting you so soon!”

He entered and shut the door behind him. “No one’s in earshot. And it’s not really that soon. It’s after eight in the morning. You should get some breakfast, and then go to bed. I can watch him now. I can see you’ve been up with him all night. How is he?” He dropped to one knee beside the bed, eyes scrutinizing his partner’s face.

“He’s feverish, but it doesn’t seem to be getting worse. He’s been sleeping most of the time, just waking every few hours and tossing a bit. I’ve given him a little water, but he’s had nothing to eat since yesterday at noon.” She rose and tidied her hair and clothing in front of the mirror. “I’ll take your suggestion, I believe, and leave you to watch him.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Kid. He needs you.”

Curry nodded, as though this went without saying, and settled himself in the armchair she had vacated. “I brought lemons, and some remedies Dr. MacKenzie advised. I wired him before I left Oneida.”

“I’ll take the lemons and make up some barley-lemon water later in the day. He won’t want any right now. My room’s right next door if you need me for anything.” She took the bag Kid handed her and left the room, closing the door quietly.

Heyes stirred and opened his eyes, shutting them again immediately when the bright sun coming in through the window made him wince. Getting up and closing the curtains, Kid returned to his chair beside the bed and laid a hand on his cousin’s forehead. This made Heyes struggle to open his eyes again. “Paula?”

“She’s getting some sleep in the room next door,” responded Kid. “You have to put up with me.”

Turning his head sharply at the unexpected voice, then grimacing at the pain that shot through his head, Heyes muttered, “Kid? What are you doing here?” He tried to raise himself on his elbow. Kid shook up the pillow, turned it, replaced it, and pushed Heyes gently back down. “And where are we? Last thing I can remember, Paula and I were in a stagecoach somewhere in New Mexico.”

“That’s about right. From what she told me, you passed out in the stagecoach, somewhere east of Portales. This is Farwell. It’s not really a town yet, but it’s gettin’ there. Sometimes it’s in Texas and sometimes in New Mexico.”

“Oh, one of those places. That reminds me—did you get that fellow Sam Bacon turned over to a Texas posse?”

“Yep, we had the stage driver stop when we’d crossed into one of the areas where the border isn’t clear, and the posse took Bacon off. At Tucumcari, George caught the train for Denver, and I took the stage back to Oneida. When Paula wired you were sick, I telegraphed Doc MacKenzie, picked up some medicines he recommended, and took the next stage south. So here I am.”

With this mystery cleared up, Heyes fell silent again. His partner took the opportunity to pour half a glass of water, with the homœopathic remedy already mixed into it, and bring it back to the bed. “Heyes? Got somethin’ for you. Come on, drink up.”

Obediently, the dark-haired outlaw stretched out his hand. Kid supported him with an arm around his shoulders, put the glass to his lips, and held him while he drank. “Thanks. That was good. I’m kinda thirsty.”

“Figured you would be, what with the fever and all. But you’ve been unconscious or asleep for almost a day and a night, and Paula said she didn’t try to give you too much to drink. I guess she was afraid she wouldn’t be strong enough to help you if you needed to get up. But I can do that now, if you want.”

Heyes nodded. Uneasily, he thought that wouldn’t have been the only problem that an unmarried woman might face when attempting to nurse a man, however betrothed to him she was. After his cousin had attended to his needs, he settled back into the bed with a sigh.

When Paula looked in on them about an hour later, Heyes was asleep again. Kid told her that he had managed to get some medicine down him, and she nodded briskly. “Then the next time he comes round, he may well be willing to take some lemon water, or lemon and barley water. I’ve made up the lemon water, and I’ll get the barley broth from Mrs. Robertson.”

“The landlord’s wife? So you weren’t quite left without a chaperone. You could have said. I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get here,” teased Kid.

“I heard that.”

“Thought you were asleep. Paula’s here.”

“I _was_ asleep,” said Heyes vaguely. “Then I heard you say she didn’t need a chaperone. But she does.”

Paula sat down on the edge of the bed until Kid hastily moved and offered her the chair. “I’ll go down and ask about the barley broth,” he offered, and headed for the door, which he left ajar upon leaving the room.

“Shh, shh. You don’t need to worry I’m not being chaperoned. The landlord’s wife has been up here twice to bring me meals, and Kid’s here now. I shall do well enough.”

“Paula? Thanks. You must have had quite a time, keeping me steady in the stagecoach, and getting me here and finding a place to stay.”

“It wasn’t that much trouble. I managed to arrange it so your head was in my lap for hours in the coach. You may not remember, but I thought it was quite nice.”

“No, I don’t remember. That’s not fair. I’d like to put my head in your lap. But it’s not decent.” Heyes was still fretting about her reputation.

“No one saw us, darling. And nothing improper happened. Stop worrying now. I have some lemonade here, made with fresh lemons that Kid brought. Do you think you could drink a little bit?”

He sat partway up so he could take the glass, drinking it down thirstily. “Thank you.” Closing his eyes, he appeared ready to drift off to sleep again. She wiped his forehead with her lavender-soaked handkerchief with one hand, unable to free the other from the grip he had acquired on it. Finally, his breathing steadied and his hand relaxed, and she was able to draw her hand free.

Kid entered the room quietly. “She’ll bring the broth up to us in a couple of hours. Meanwhile, she says you should come down and have some lunch. Go on, get something to eat. I’ll stay with him.”

She nodded, looked in the mirror to tidy her hair, and went downstairs, leaving the two outlaws close beside one another, Kid encouraging and supporting his partner, as they had been doing since the first time she saw them.

*** *** ***

Four days later, the three of them descended from the stage in Oneida. It was now early November. Taking care of the Clementine problem, as Miss Wellington tended to think of it, had occupied almost three weeks, what with Heyes’s illness and the long travel times involved in escorting Miss Hale to Mexico, but it was over now. The two men still had work to do, assisting Chad Cooper in the resolution of the long-running land fraud investigation, leaving Miss Wellington more or less to her own devices during the day. They hoped to be able to leave Texas soon after the New Year and return to Colorado, but no one was in any hurry, the weather in the Texas Panhandle being more pleasant than Colorado this time of year, except for the not infrequent ‘blue northers’ that blew across the Panhandle, driving blinding snow ahead of them, but leaving sunny days in their wake.

Polk St. Methodist Episcopal Church, Amarillo, 1902. 

In the weeks before Christmas, they were able to participate in some of the local holiday festivities. There was a lavish dinner at the hotel, coupled with the opportunity to help decorate the Christmas tree erected in the lobby. Parker’s Chapel, the thriving Union Protestant church, put forth special efforts to provide choral music appropriate to the season.[2]

**Oneida, Texas, December 11th, 1881**

At the church service to which Miss Wellington went, accompanied by all three of the men, on the second Sunday in December, they saw a hand-lettered poster announcing that the combined choirs from the town’s two churches would present two performances of the Christmas portion of G. F. Handel’s oratorio _The Messiah_, adding to it the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus from the remaining portion of the work. The performances were scheduled for the afternoon and evening of the following Sunday, the 18th of December. A pot-luck supper was to be provided, and the entire town was encouraged to attend.

“Oh, that will be nice! I’ve not heard a performance of _The Messiah_ in several years,” exclaimed Paula. “It’s too bad they won’t be doing the entire oratorio, but I can understand that it might be thought too demanding for the small choir they have here. Let’s plan to go, shall we?”

“What is it?” asked Kid. “I always like to hear good singing.”

“It’s a long series of musical pieces—solos and choruses—about the prophecies pointing to Christ, and then about His being born in Bethlehem. On second thought, I don’t know if you’d like it or not. The style of singing is rather formal. An oratorio is kind of like an opera without staging, dialogue, or costumes. It tells a story, usually a religious one. This one is Christian, of course. It was written in the mid-eighteenth century by a German composer living in London. That is, he wrote the music. All of the words come from the Bible.”

“Learn something new every day,” said Heyes easily, charmed by the eager anticipation on his lady’s face, and pushing into the back of his mind his uneasiness at the prospect of having to sit through a whole evening of formal Christian music. “Kind of like a Christian version of a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta? Sure, we’ll go, Paula. Chad, what about you?”

“I’ve heard parts of _The Messiah_ before, but it’s been a long time—not since I lived in New Orleans, and that was over ten years ago,” replied Cooper. “I don’t mind coming along. And free food’s always welcome. Shall we plan on the evening performance? Then we can eat first and be here early enough to get seats. They might be packed out, from what I remember about this thing.”

This plan was followed. After an excellent meal of roast ham, mashed potatoes, baked prairie chicken, and other local delicacies provided in great abundance by the ladies of the church, the four of them obtained chairs about halfway back on the left side of the nave. Later arrivals soon filled in the row from both sides, in effect immobilizing them where they were until the end of the performance.

The 32-voice choir, which had obviously been rehearsing for weeks, put their hearts into the music, singing clearly and strongly through each chorus. The soloists, two of whom had come sixty miles from Clarendon[3] especially to take part in the performances, all sustained their roles exceptionally well.

Paula, sitting bolt upright on the uncomfortable chair, tried to sing along with a couple of the choruses as much as she remembered. Chad Cooper had closed his eyes to listen to the music, but was clearly not asleep. After initial hesitation at the completely unfamiliar style of music, Kid had begun to concentrate on what was being sung. He had read some of the Bible passages that were being used and recognized the words, but the magnificent music showcased them, conveying shades of meaning he had never thought about before. A delighted smile crossed his face as he listened.

Heyes settled himself as best he could for the evening. He had been told the performance would take about an hour and a quarter. His mild enjoyment of the music was increased tenfold by watching Paula’s appreciation. Clearly, she was more musical than he had realised. He knew she could sing well, and play the piano, but he had had no idea she would enjoy this type of thing. They had attended concerts together while in Idaho Springs, and on one memorable evening they had attended the premier performance of Gilbert and Sullivan’s _The Pirates of Penzance_ in Denver with the Jordan family, all of them laughing uproariously at the comic opera songs and the Pirate King’s unintentional similarity to Hannibal Heyes, the leader of the Devil’s Hole gang. But this was different. Unwillingly, he began to listen more closely to the words.

Swept away by the glory of “For Unto Us a Child Is Born,” the audience gave a collective sigh. The singers began again, with several solos on passages taken from the Gospel of Luke, culminating with the joyous “Glory to God.” A soprano solo and a duet for the two women soloists followed, and then the choir sang another chorus, “His Yoke Is Easy.”

There was a pause. Chad opened his eyes and sat up straight. People shifted in their seats. The tiny orchestra and piano swung into a stirring, almost martial rhythm. Heyes and Kid were caught by surprise, struggling quickly to their feet as everyone around them stood up, responding to some kind of invisible signal. Taking a breath at their director’s upstroke, the choir burst into song. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, Hallelujah!”

Heyes felt the hairs rising on the back of his neck. It was magnificent. It was breath-taking. It was, somehow, terrifying. He shot a quick glance aside at Kid, but his partner’s whole attention was focused on the words and music. A few of the people around them, including Paula, were singing along with parts of the chorus.

Suddenly it was over. The audience, instead of sitting back down, began to clap. Wave after wave of applause rocked the small church building. Voices around them called, “Again!”

Noticing her fiancé’s discomfort, Paula whispered, under cover of the noise, “Would you care to leave, darling?”

“We can’t, really, can we?” Heyes looked at the tightly packed sea of people between him and the doors and shook his head.

Just then the audience quieted as the director turned back to his choir and musicians. In a moment, the introductory notes to the magnificent Hallelujah chorus sounded again.

At the end of the second rendition, the audience began to file quietly out. Waiting their turn, Miss Wellington, the two outlaws, and the Texas Ranger made their way to the aisle and then to the doors as the church slowly emptied. Silently, they walked back to the hotel, Heyes giving his arm to Paula as usual.

As they went upstairs and parted to go to their separate rooms, Heyes took the key from Paula’s hand, unlocked her door, returned it, and stepped back. She smiled up into his face. “Thank you for taking me. I enjoyed that so much.”

“I enjoyed watching you enjoy it,” he replied. He then realized he probably should have taken the trouble to think of something more appropriate to say, but she apparently didn’t notice, or if she did, she affected not to. “Good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night.” Seeing that Kid was waiting a few feet away, Paula stood on tiptoe and gave her lover a quick kiss, then slipped inside her room and shut the door.

Curry and Heyes settled down in their room with cups of coffee which Kid had snagged from the pot atop the wood stove at the foot of the stairs. Chad had gone to his own room. They couldn’t expect any poker, it being Sunday evening, so the only thing to be done was to get ready for bed, perhaps talking a little while doing so. Heyes searched his partner’s face. The younger man’s expression was bemused, delighted, and awestruck all at once.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you liked it,” Heyes ventured.

“No. Though I don’t know if ‘like’ is the right word.” Kid gave a long sigh. “That was really something. Kinda makes you think, don’t it?” He took a swig of his coffee. “Didn’t you like it?

Caught off guard, Heyes stammered, “Well, I … uh, sure. They did a real good job—such a small choir, and that music was awfully complicated.” He knew he’d phrased himself badly.

“Heyes, if you don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t have to.”

Heyes hesitated before replying. “Maybe we’d better not. Because I really don’t know what to say. I’ve never heard anything like that before. And the words—I mean, it’s good for Christmas, isn’t it? And that’s why they performed it at this time of year. But …”

Kid preserved a tactful silence.

“All right! I’m not ready to think about it right now—about the words. Especially that last piece, the ‘Hallelujah’ thing.” He stared at his partner challengingly.

“Sounds reasonable.” Kid nodded. “There’s that Jules Verne book in my bag, if you want to read it.” He drew his gun from his holster and began to rub it with a clean rag, more out of habit than anything, since it had not been fired that day.

Heyes had an indefinable feeling that he was being coddled, but he said nothing. It was a new experience, and he wasn’t sure he liked it, but he could still look forward to the remaining Christmas celebrations in the little town.

* * *

[1] Rubber containers for hot water were in use as early as 1875. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hot_water_bottle#Early_history>

[2] What is now Polk Street United Methodist Church in Amarillo was founded as a Methodist Episcopal church, but was looked upon as a “Union” church where all of the local Protestants attended. From this congregation came the later Baptist, Christian, and Presbyterian churches, each the first of their kind in Amarillo. <http://www.psumc.com/about-us/>

[3] The little town of Clarendon, founded in 1878 by a Methodist minister who brought most of his congregation with him to build the town, was envisioned as a sober Christian settlement in the midst of the Panhandle cattle country. Though the town has grown and become more diverse, it still upholds the vision of its founder to a great extent. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clarendon,_Texas>


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